


The Forgotten

by Eowyn330



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eowyn330/pseuds/Eowyn330
Summary: In the aftermath of the Dominion War, Saavik is asked to help the one person she truly hates. The mission will cross quadrants and take her, and everyone with her, to the shadows of Cardassia, the Romulan Empire, and Earth.





	1. Chapter 1

Notes and disclaimer:This story is based on the episodes "Unification Part I" and "Unification Part II" from Star Trek: The Next Generation and the episode "Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges" from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. It is also based on my own story "Befriending the Enemy". It is not necessary to have read this story first but it is recomended. The characters Ajeya and Raghnil belong to Kerry (Kerjen).

Federation year 2377

First hardly spared a look at the woman who lied motionless on the lab's floor. All his attention was focused on the other Cardassian who stared at him, fear clearly written in his pleading eyes.

"You are a friend," said the Jem'Hadar reassuringly. "You live."

The middle-aged Cardassian slumped his shoulders, and sighed loudly in relief. However, utter panic showed again in his eyes when he saw the soldier raise his weapon and fire. He doubled his body in pain and fell to the floor. Blood poured from the inflicted wound, and he looked up in shock.

The gun lowered now, as expressionless as ever, the Dominion warrior repeated, "You live. You are not suspect this way."

The Cardassian scientist gazed again at his wound and realized the meaning of the Jem'Hadar's actions and words: it was not fatal; he would survive. He tried to smile in gratitude, but he only returned a pained grimace. He collapsed against one of the examination tables.

First just turned and left the room.

All had left, but Fourth lingered in the detention area, looking intently at the only closed cell. He was not sure of what to do. Nobody had cared for the prisoner in that cell. Nobody had minded to leave her behind. But First had not said to do so. And Fourth did not want to. He doubted another instant, and then unlocked the cell's door.

The old woman inside blinked when she saw the Jem'Hadar at the door, but she did not react in any other way. She gazed at the warrior with a dispassionate and somewhat haughty look. She was seated on the floor and did not make any attempt to get up.

Fourth stood still for some seconds, watching the woman. The first word that came to his mind to describe her was a disquieting one: Romulan. And a Romulan soldier, even if she had been stripped of her uniform; Fourth had seen it when she was brought in a few days ago. A high ranking officer too, he had noticed the rank insignia she wore proudly and let everybody know that she was an admiral.

In her underwear, clearly weakened by the imprisonment, and unable to stand, she still held herself with an authoritative manner. Fourth appreciated that, but also this made him distrust her. Some of the people who had kept them captive were also Romulan; they wore that same uniform and they wore it with the same pride. Is she really any different?

None of them uttered a word as they looked and studied each other. Fourth, however, had already come to a decision. He was going to release her, as she had seemed to try to free them. Isn't that the reason for her confinement?

He neared the Romulan woman and said simply, "You helped us. I help you." And without more words, Fourth reached down and took the woman delicately.

The Romulan frowned, but made no comment; and in her debilitated state, she let the Jem'Hadar soldier carry her away.

The Cardassian scientist remained in the lab, trying only with his hands to prevent his open wound's bleeding. It hurt and he did not attempt to conceal the pain. He was gripping a communicator and counted the seconds as they went by, waiting for the moment to call the authorities, once the former Jem'Hadar prisoners were safely away. He thought he was alone.

However, the other woman in the corner was not dead yet. A minute after the Jem'Hadar leader had exited the room, she moved with suffered difficulty. She slowly reached out her hand to take her own communicator that laid not far from her, struggling against her pain and her blurring mind. Her fingers touched it. She felt nausea again; unconsciousness called for her, she fought against it.

"Traitor," she whispered in a very hoarse voice, directing all her hate and contempt to the one who only a few minutes ago had been her trusted colleague.

But these were her last words; that was her last move. She was too seriously injured, and even if she tried with all her power, her fingers never opened the communicator, and her words were lost in an empty room. She died, just as the Jem'Hadar supposed she would, and the other scientist never even heard her insult.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Ba'el is a character from Star Trek: The Next Generation. She appears in the episodes "Birthright Part I" and "Birthright Part II".

Ba'el played idly with her glass as she listened to the music. She was not looking at the band, obviously amateur, that played their instruments as loudly as they could, silencing the conversations of the locals. Wearing a plain dress, her long hair loose and wild, she looked very much as a Klingon merchant, and nobody would notice the hilt of her very Romulan Honor Blade slightly sticking out of her right boot. It was her father's and she liked having it by her side whenever she could, to remember him. Both her parents had given her some of their posesions when she had left Carraya IV, but her mother's d'k tahg knife had rusted with disuse and so she had given her bat'leth instead, not a weapon you could carry without being inmediately spotted out.

She always liked to go to places like that one, away from the bases where most of her fellow Starfleet officers partied. She liked to go down to the planets, walk their streets and find pubs and cafes where she could drink along the natives. Most of them always gave her a wide berth. They saw a Klingon, even if only a young Klingon woman without any armor, and decided it was better to leave her alone. And she really wanted to be left alone.

Maybe she actually liked to be singled out, to be marked as the outcast. Because she was really an outcast, even if in her daily life nobody reminded her of that. Half-Klingon, half-Romulan, she was rejected by both her cultures. But in the Federation she had always felt accepted and welcomed. Both Spock and Saavik had warned her about possible bigotry due to her hybrid nature, but she had hardly found it. And she had lived a happy childhood where her parents and the other adults in the community of Carraya IV had never hinted there was a problem with her nature. Until Worf came.

She guessed Worf was another of the reasons why she liked placed like that one, so she could abandon herself and think about him and feel the pain his rejection still caused her as the same time she tried to numble it with alcohol. She suffered so much still and if she was going to let her emotions run free, it was better done in a place where no one would know her, where no one would stop her and frown upon her if grief turned to rage. She had fell so much in love with him, she still loved him, but he had never truly loved her, for he would not love anyone with Romulan blood. He had kissed her goodbye, saying he could, when he thought he was going to die, but at the end he had left her behind without a second glance. And then, later, she had married a full alien, a Trill. But he would never consider her. And it stung.

Sometimes she even wondered if she did need a therapy that would free her of her deep emotions that would never be returned and only hurt her. Sometimes she wished she were like Saavik, so calm, so controled. She even was tempted sometimes to ask her to teach her mental disciplines. But would they have any use in her? She doubted it.

And there she was. In the furthest place she had found, trying to forget the unforgettable, trying to easy her pain, and still, with the alien music playing, and the alien voices surrounding her, there was only one image in her head, and it was that of Worf.

Another gulp to her drink. She had asked the same a rough local had ordered beside her; the bartender, pleased and a bit wary of her exotic presence, had given it to her for free. The drink was strong, and she did not really like it; its taste was awful, but still she drank it, it was not the worst she had tried. Ba'el counted the weird-looking glasses where the different drinks were kept, traced the engraved patterns with her mind, and memorized their colors. The time went by.

And then he came. She did not see him enter. She had still her gaze fixed on the vases, and the door was behind her. She did not even notice his approach, her intent focused at the bottles and nothing else. He was almost touching her when she realized a new incomer and turned sharply to face it.

He wore plain civilian clothes too, and in the tavern's dim light he did not look very impressive. A hood covered most of his face, but his tall slim form and his slightly greenish skin could not be hidden between the small rounded bodies of the planet's inhabitants, and their fairly bright purple faces. Then even in the dark she made out his features, and Ba'el realized inmediately she was facing a Romulan.

Inwardly, she took her hand away from her drink and caressed her hidden pointy ear instead. But she did not have time to do anything more. The moment recognition came, the man had already reached out his hand and something was pushing her own free hand.

"A message from my commander," he whispered in rough Federation Standard, and before she could react, he turned away.

As his hand retreated, Ba'el instinctually grasped the unknown object. He was already disappearing between the people when she looked down at it. A Romulan padd, with a symbol on its screen. She had seen it before, even if probably she should not have. It was the odd scar Saavik had on her left shoulder, a family mark. A message from a mysterious Romulan commander to her revered admiral. Inwardly, Ba'el shuddered.


	3. Chapter 3

Saavik frowned deeply as she saw the message that had just appeared on her computer's screen. She reached for her mental controls, thinking that maybe she was still sleeping and what she was contemplating was not true. But even if she was sleepy, she was awake and aware. Suddenly, she felt as if her room went cold, and pulled her light Vulcan robe closer. 03:37 was the hour that the computer signaled. Certainly not an hour to be sending dark messages, and much less considering Ba'el was not even supposed to be onboard. Saavik pressed the comm. button, and when Ba'el's voice answered immediately, she ordered coolly, "Lieutenant, to my quarters."

Saavik directed a last glance at the ominous message her aide had sent her, and turned towards the door. She pulled her hair back, and rearranged her silky robe so it would look properly. She took a long breath; she could not deny the sight of the hateful symbol had shocked her, but she held herself in check. She would ask her aide now, and find out what was going on.

Just in that moment Ba'el was also at the door. The young woman was still wearing the Klingon civilian clothes she liked to wear while off duty; her face was flushed, and for Saavik it was obvious that she had been drinking. And she was agitated too, and shifted nervously.

"Admiral-," she started to say; anxiety showing clearly in her voice.

"I assume you have a good explanation for waking me up, and for doing so with such a message," Saavik said, and her voice sounded far colder than she really had intended. She paused, changed her intonation. "And for presenting before me in such a fashion."

There was a humor hint in that last sentence; she did not want to be harsh, but the tension built up as she thought about the symbol presented to her and the possible implications. However, even as well as Ba'el had gotten to know Saavik, the teasing was lost to her. She was also too preoccupied to think of anything else but the cryptic message she had just been given. She squared herself before talking again.

"My apologies, Admiral. I was down on the planet, as you know, having some fun, when- when he appeared."

Saavik could not help but frown again. "Who?" There was an edge in her otherwise controlled voice.

"A Romulan, ma'am. He gave me this," her hands stopped playing nervously with the padd she was carrying and showed it to her. "I- I did not know how to approach you." Ba'el bowed slightly her head, unsure.

Saavik firm hand reached for the padd. The symbol was written there. Her Romulan family name. Her hand strained to shake, but she kept herself in check. Her gaze turned sharply to Ba'el again.

"What Romulan? What did he say?"

"Nothing" blurted Ba'el, "I don't know. His face was hidden. He just said, 'A message from my commander.' And he left, and I immediately went back here and called you."

"You did well," Saavik reassured her. She caressed the Romulan padd for a second, contemplating her options. "Now, Ba'el, go back to your quarters and rest."

It looked friendly enough, but this time Ba'el read clearly between his superior's lines. She was dismissing her. She wanted to be alone. Whatever that padd contained, it was not of her concern. But it was, because she cared for her very much, and she knew she would not rest at all that night.

Saavik stared at the padd for a minute once Ba'el left. She did not move. Then, making a conscious effort to remain calm, she touched lightly the symbol in the small keyboard that in Romulan read as forward. As she expected, the screen changed and a few words appeared written instead.

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you. Tomorrow morning where my soldier was."

A blank line, and then another sentence.

"We group together here."

Saavik pressed "forward" again, taking in the odd words. The words that appeared now were not part of the message, as she had expected; she was duly informed it had already been deleted before the screen turned blank. And then there was nothing to read.

The admiral continued staring at the now empty pad. She was grateful of her Vulcan training; it was the only thing that kept her sane, and let her mind work in spite of the shock the unwanted message provoked on her.

She knew well who the sender was: her half-sister, Raghnill, who she had met and befriended while she was wrongly imprisoned by the Klingons. She could not say she did not know her Romulan kin was nearby. She had followed her career closely, the same way she had watched her mother's steps.

When the Dominion war was over, Saavik was assigned the task of coordinating and supervising the Gamma Quadrant exploration and colonization efforts. It was a delicate matter. A lot of different civilizations thrived in that area of the space; others lingered under the shadow of the formerly strong Dominion. Some were eager to welcome and start exchanges with the incomers; others, however, resented the new alien presence, and conflicts could easily escalate. There were other worlds too primitive to let their existence be known, and they had to be protected for their own good.

And the Federation citizens were not the only ones interested in the Gamma Quadrant and its many possibilities. Saavik had to deal with the other parts involved, and the most difficult of them all were the Romulans. Both the Klingon and the Romulan Star Empire had left clear their intention of populating and adding to their respective empires the new territories, as part of their rightful benefits from wining the war. Their aggressive politics lead to tension between them, the Federation and the natives of the planets that saw their future endangered. Saavik could deal well with Klingons, who considered her a hero and treated her with utmost respect. Romulans, however, were a very different matter.

The situation had only gotten worse when a month ago a new military leader took command of the colonization Romulan troops, Admiral Ajeya. She had not had contact with the Romulan party since then. Since knowing the replacement, she had been analyzing her predicament, trying to figure out a way to avoid meeting the hateful Romulan, and, if it could not be avoided, speak with one of her subordinates instead. She had always thought of a particular one, the commander of Ajeya's flag ship, her own daughter, Commander Raghnil. It seemed that finally that meeting was going to take place, but not in any way she had contemplated before. She wondered what the Romulan's intention was.

Finally, Saavik went for the replicator and ordered herself a tea. She seated on her office's chair, and while she sipped her drink, she planned her next actions. The admiral realized she had been a bit rough with Ba'el. She would explain to her tomorrow, after she had rested. She needed her closely by her side. But she could not get to tell her the whole truth, to confess her the real nature of her relation to the mysterious Romulan commander and her mighty mother. She would not lie to her either. Next day she would beam down to the pub for the appointed meeting, and she would count on her loyal aide to ensure she did not fall into a trap. There would be only the two of them; in such a delicate matter, she would not trust anyone else.


	4. Chapter 4

The bartender mopped the bar trying to appear busy, but his gaze continued to turn toward the three people at the corner. It was early morning and the pub was deserted except for the unexpected clients. Besides, they were not very good ones.

He remembered very well when they have entered, interrupting his absent humming as he served himself a hot drink. The two younger ones had come in first, watching intently every inch of the local before moving forward. The older woman came next, and turning her cold stare at him, approached the bar.

He had just been told of the other alien that had spent a few hours in there during the night, a sullen young Klingon who had had several drinks and had become the new gossip in town. That was surprising enough, since the town was neither a tourist nor a commercial one, and very few off-worlders had been seen there. But the appearance of the new three aliens was even more shocking, for they were unmistakably Romulan.

The bartender had thought first they were Vulcans, but the way they acted suited far better what he had heard about Romulans, and some of their features and their clothes told him he was right. He wondered what the three aliens could be doing in his tavern, but he did not dare to ask. Romulans did not have good fame, their was even worse that the Klingons', and those three had done nothing to correct him of his previous assumptions.

The older woman had neared him at the bar and asked for a Romulan wine, when he had answered her he had nothing Romulan to offer, she had looked slightly annoyed. Then she had cut him off as he had started to tell her the drinks he could serve her, and had asked for water instead.

She was now seated at one corner, sipping the water from time to time. He could hardly make out the other two persons, who remained in the shadows, as if guarding her. The bartender could not deny he was a bit uneasy; he wondered what could possibly happen next.

The door opened again there, and his rounded yellow eyes turned immediately toward it. The bartender could hardly believe it, but another Romulan woman was entering his pub. She was approximately the same age the other was, but her hair was long and curly and made her somewhat an oddity. Their eyes locked for a second when the woman turned around inspecting the room, but the bartender could read nothing on her cool expression. She approached the table slowly, her casual robe flinging slightly as she walked away.

The sitting Romulan glanced up at the incomer, but her face was hidden in the gloom and he could not say if she was happy or not of seeing the other woman. The bartender could not help but stare now intently at the two strangers, and only a sudden movement that caught up his attention got him out of his reverie to look at one of the Romulans who stayed on the background. The young man on her right had just pulled open the long jacket he wore, revealing an object that could only be a weapon. Even if the shadows covered his features, he could distinguish the menacing glare the young Romulan was directing at him. The message was clear: "Keep yourself busy again." And even if his curiosity was strong he was not about to defy him. The bartender took the mop again, and as his gaze turned again toward the bar, he felt cold with fear; he was starting to realize what the word danger really meant. Not daring to look back, he moved toward the back door, and hid into the store. Once the door closed behind him, he rested against it and sighed loudly. Romulans were not good guys, or so he had heard. He now only wished they finished whichever business had led them to his tavern and went away. The image of the armed Romulan was fixed in his head, and inwardly, he trembled. Damn them. He did not wish to know about them and their dirty motives anymore, he would never mention having seen them if he had to; he just hoped they would spare him.

On the other side of the door, four uninterested stares were now on the closed door. Soon they turned again to look at each other. Saavik stayed some feet away from the table, looking coolly at the other woman, revealing nothing. The Romulan however, flickered uneasy under her gaze, while the two guards tried and failed to cover up their unrest. For a minute, nobody said a word.

Playing with her glass, Raghnil finally looked up and asked casually in Romulan, "Well, aren't you going to sit down?"

For a single moment, Saavik thought of the possibility of not answering in the same language; she felt ashamed of the still present prejudice that made her think so, though, and quickly disregarding the idea, she tilted slightly her head and replied, "Aren't you going to stand up, commander?" She kept her voice hard, but her lips curled slightly as she finished the question, and her eyes sparkled playfully.

The Romulan remained serious at first, but soon burst out laughing. She stood up and mockingly snapped to attention. Saavik came forward then, arching one of her eyebrows, and took the offered seat. Raghnil sat down too. She continued smiling for some seconds, while she contemplated her half-sister. However, when she spoke again, her expression turned serious.

"First, let's say this is not the way I had intended for us to meet again," she said.

"Indeed?" Saavik replied, her voice flat. "I had not intended to meet again," as she saw the Romulan frowning, she added sympathetically, "Raghnil."

The friendly mention of her name made the Romulan commander relax and understand the real meaning of Saavik harsh words. "I understand the danger of seeing each other again." She paused, and consciously slowed her breath. "I have taken this in deep consideration, and thus I have arranged for us to meet here, afar from undesired observation."

Saavik remained still on her chair. "And why are we here, Raghnil?"

The lack of emotion in Saavik's voice was unnerving for the Romulan commander; it clearly reminded her she was speaking with a Vulcan, and she did not like that a bit. She preferred the Saavik who had welcomed her, the one she had known in the past, the one who was Romulan. But she realized that the serious line she kept only could reinforce the Starfleet officer Saavik primary was. She sighed before continuing; she hated her own weakness that had led her to that alien town.

"Because I need your help," she dragged out the words as if they hurt, and they really hurt.

Raghnil fidgeted with her hands while speaking. As Saavik listened interested, she also observed the two guards behind the commander. She knew both of them, even if they have changed much since the last time she had seen them. They were also in tension, and watched her and their superior with obvious apprehension.

"Admiral Ajeya is missing. She has been missing for the last eight days," she made the admission with difficulty, and did not meet Saavik's eyes.

When she raised her gaze again, she could notice the Starfleet officer's hardened stare, but she had missed the brief moment when shook had actually showed on her dark eyes. A rush of emotions had swept over Saavik, but she kept them tightly in check. She always watched Ajeya's movements, and she resented been unaware. But that, as all the old feelings the mention of the Romulan admiral stirred on her, were unimportant now. Her sharp mind played with all the consequences that revelation implied.

"She had… a mission of her own," Raghnil continued, "an unofficial one. She never let me know, even if many times I offered to help."

Saavik's face was unreadable. She remained silent, allowing but also forcing Raghnil to explain further. The commander caressed her hair. In the shadows, the guard on her right nervously tipped his disruptor, while his comrade tightened her grip on her own weapon.

"She went to Cardassia Prime. Alone. No explanation. She just said she thought she had figured it out." Raghnil sighed loudly; she was obviously distraught. "What? I don't know. She never said. But she was obsessed with that… mission of her. I can tell you that."

"Why am I here, Raghnil?"

Raghnil's sharp glare answered Saavik's unemotional question. She took the glass again and under her strength, it started to breach. She fought for control, and slowly loosened her grasp, but she continued to look angrily at Saavik.

"That's the only thing you are going to say?" she spat. "I'm telling you, mother is missing; she's probably dead! Aren't you going to say you're sorry? Aren't you going to say you're happy? I know you hate her, damn you!" Her finger pointed dangerously at Saavik, but her people remained still.

"I am not sorry," Saavik answered, her voice even. "I am not happy, either." She would not deny Raghnil's last assumption, though; her hatred for her Romulan mother ran too deep and not even all her years of Vulcan meditation had helped to heal that wound.

Ragnnil's fierce gaze was still locked on Saavik, but that could not intimidate the Vulcan admiral.

"If you have taken all this time to inform me of Ajeya's" the word tasted sour in her mouth "miss, I thank you. But I suspect that is not the reason we are here. After all, you said you needed my help. So I ask you again, why am I here?"

Now understanding the meaning of Saavik's question, Raghnil's rage was replaced by steely determination, "I want to find her." A pause. Then her gaze softened, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "I need to find her."

Saavik's mouth started to open, but before she could utter a word, Raghnil interrupted her, raising her hand.

"Don't! Don't even dare to ask me why I am contacting you!"

A dry smile played in Saavik's eyes.

"You know why! You are half Romulan. You know Romulans." There was sadness in her now soft voice. "My superiors, they will not help me. What am I supposed to tell them? The truth?" She laughed dryly. "And mother has enemies," she looked up at Saavik before adding with sarcasm, "apart from you. They will use this opportunity against her, against me."

Saavik reflected aloud. "A rogue admiral who is missing following her own foolish enterprise? The Empire would not waste a single soldier to help her."

"And what about the incompetent commander of her flag ship?" Raghnil added, a sour smile in her face. "What would you do to her?"

Saavik thought about the possibilities, but remained quiet.

"So I have kept this secret for the moment," the commander continued. "I think I can hide her absence from my superiors for long; I will manage. But what about the Tal Shiar? They have spies in all the ships, including my own. No matter how hard I try to have an utterly loyal, reliable crew, those snakes always keep getting through. So, right now, one of my own people is plotting against me, planning to use this misfortune for any of their sneaky plans. And I have to find her before they act." Raghnil's voice grew hoarse.

"If she is still alive," Saavik supplied.

"Even if she is dead!" Her hand hitting the table reinforced her words.

She paused to calm herself down. She tilted her head before adding, "You'd like her to be dead, wouldn't you?" When only silence answered her, she continued talking. "That would be good news, huh?" There was no malice in the shy smile that was forming in her lips. "I know you want her dead. She wants you dead too."

Saavik decided to ignore her half-sister's comment, and instead, turned to their previous conversation. "So you want me to find Ajeya." There was a certain coldness in her voice that Raghnil did not miss.

"I would never ask you to help her, not after what she did to you," she quickly added, defensively. "Actually," again, the words resisted to come out, "I understand you are in your right to claim her life as honor dictates."

Saavik felt the feral in her raising dangerously at the mention of the retribution she had desired for so long. However, her mind was too disciplined to be affected by the old feelings. The sparkle of violence never reached her eyes.

"But I'm tied up, and if I don't have news from my mother soon, I'm as good as dead." Her voice had turned hard, refusing to give up to the desperation that threatened to overcome her at any moment. "I know you owe me nothing, and I would be in your debt if you accept to help me here. Saavik…" And she reached out to take the other woman's hand.

It had seemed a natural gesture of closeness, of reassurance. She realized her mistake on time though, and quickly withdrew her hand when she realized the Vulcan would not appreciate the physical contact. Finally, she surrendered before Saavik.

"I would not ask this of you, but I have no one else to turn."

Raghnil's eyes looked up at Saavik, pleading. Saavik realized that, and knew well how hard it was for the proud woman to admit defeat. She would not say she liked the arrogance the Romulan commander usually showed, but the new situation made her feel uneasy. Raghnil was a woman she admired, in spite of all her flaws; she did not like seeing her in a bad position. Raghnil was a friend, even if an odd one. And friends were always to be helped when in need. Saavik would have never doubted to offer any assistance she could to her, if it were not for a little detail: she was asking her to help Ajeya.

The sole idea made Saavik feel sick. She had not admitted it aloud, but she really continued hating her, and the hurt child of her past told her that there was nothing she wished more than seeing her lost forever. If she was in trouble, she was not the one helping her out.

Saavik struggled to came to a decision; she tried hard to reach to a compromise between her conflicted mind's confrontational wills. Raghnil's intense gaze was still drilling on her, waiting an answer with apprehension.

Saavik sighed loudly before finally saying, "Ok, I will try to find out where Ajeya is. I will never give you further help."

It was Raghnil's time to sigh, "That's more than enough." She relaxed a bit and part of her usual confidence came back, "You'll find her, I'll get her back home."

And inwardly Saavik cringed at hearing the words; she really did not want Ajeya back home, she wondered if she could honestly help Raghnil.


	5. Chapter 5

Saavik interrupted her explanation and looked sharply up at her aide. "You aren't paying attention," she mildly scolded her.

Ba'el flushed slightly at being caught. "Sorry," she muttered, "it's just there is something I yet don't understand."

Saavik arched her eyebrow, "I cannot see the difficulty-"

"Why do you hate admiral Ajeya?" Ba'el bluntly asked. Saavik had told her a lot about her difficult past, but still, she always let out the details and Ajeya was a name she had not mentioned before.

Saavik, however, was thrown back. That was a question she did not want to answer and she would never do, not even to Ba'el, whom she considered family and was actually a member of her House. Not even to Ba'el, a fellow half Romulan to whom she could relate.

"That is irrelevant," she tried to evade her, and her voice went hoarse.

"You don't want to share," the young woman looked down, disappointed.

Saavik was sincere, "I can't." She reached out for Ba'el's eyes. "This is a delicate matter, Ba'el; I am trusting you and I need you to trust me." She looked warmly at her.

Ba'el smiled, somewhat ashamed, "You always have my trust, and my support, no matter what. I—I don't need to know."

And that was true too, but Ba'el still wanted to know, because she felt Saavik was hiding to her something important, something that was really relevant, something she feared could hurt Saavik, and that was the last thing Ba'el wanted her to happen. She knew she was under stress, even if she tried to hide it, as she always did; and she wished she could know all what was going on, and not just what Saavik wanted to admit to her. After all, Saavik had never withdrawn any information to her before.

Or maybe actually she had. For her Romulan friend, the one she had befriended in the Klingon prison camp, already knew something she had always ignored:

Saavik hated Raghnil's mother, Ajeya. Saavik obviously had met Ajeya before.

And no matter how much both women have shared about their common heritage, about the differences and the similarities of their upbringing, no matter how many times Saavik had used her past experiences and her vast knowledge to guide the young troubled woman, Ajeya was a person from her past she has never mentioned. And she was an important one.


	6. Chapter 6

Saavik had been on Cardassia Prime several times before. She had always been in the political center of the planet, and it had always surprised her the lack of evidence of the past warring years. In the capitol city, tall magnificent buildings raised defying the blue sky. Elegant Cardassians in expensive clothes walked and chatted in the clean streets. New shops and business opened their doors to the many clients, and their infamous trials could be seen playing in every corner in their big typical oval screens. There were a lot of spas, and people went in and out with a satisfied smile in their scaled faces.

Everything had been quickly reconstructed, and no one would have believed that less than two years ago all that was left on that place was dust, dust and dead Cardassians. And Cardassians did not forget, even if they tried hard to go forward and leave the dark times of their association with the Dominion behind. A big memorial had also being raised in honor of the millions of civilians who had perished during the last days of what was now called the Dominion's occupation. It was also huge, bright and impressive, as the rest of the city that had been rebuilt. Cardassia was free, and powerful again; that was the clear image that welcomed all visitors, that was the idea the Cardassians wanted to give to themselves. With the help of the rest of the former warring parties, Cardassia Prime was still alive, even if those who had fallen would never rise again.

Saavik traveled again to Cardassia Prime accompanied by Ba'el. She did not want to give any official reason for her visit to the planet, so she had done something she was sure her superiors would see as extremely odd, however they would not be able to question. She had taken a personal leave, and so had done her aide. And this time she was not going to the center, as she had during her duty appointed visits, but to a remote town that apparently held no interest.

She had arranged her transport to the town with the local help center. When they beamed down, three smiling faces greeted them: a middle-aged Bajoran couple and a fairly young Cardassian man. Both Saavik and Ba'el were wearing civilian clothes; however, they had left their ranks in the fleet being known. Even if they had clearly stated that theirs was a recreational trip, the presence of the two Starfleet officers had excited the anonymous cooperators. Saavik had realized the town's inhabitants would be curious and would gossip about them, so she had given them a more believable reason for their stay. Pretending to be interested in seeing the efforts of the cooperators in the reconstruction of different parts of Cardassia, Ba'el had contacted the local office for an unofficial tour. The three people welcoming them were not going to disappoint them.

First off, they were offered red leaf tea, as a welcoming drink in their spartan office. There was a poster hanging in one of the walls. It pictured two young men, one Bajoran and one Cardassian, holding an old fashioned working tool; the background was a colorful nature landscape. Written in both Cardassian and Bajoran was the slogan: "Working together for a future of mutual cooperation and understanding." It seemed to fit well the people gathered in the room.

The three of them excitedly spoke of their reconstruction projects. They explained all what they did was mainly due to the Bajoran community the couple came from. The Federation was also helping, and thus they were glad for their benefactors' presence. Ba'el smiled widely at that comment; she listened to them with keen interest. With their hands entangled, the couple, obviously in love, expressed their strong desire to help and start a long-lasting friendship with the Cardassian people. "New generations are not to blame for what their parents or grandparents did." Their gazes turned tenderly towards their Cardassian partner. "If we just leave aside our rage, our desire for revenge, and focus in love…"

The young man lifted his clear eyes from his drink to look at their two visitors, and pointed out his own view. "For decades, we Cardassian thought ourselves better than the Bajorans; we thought we were right to decide their future, because we knew better." There was sadness in his voice, but not even when he continued forward could Saavik or Ba'el detect any bitterness. "Then, the Founders came and treated us the same way. We learned the hard way how wrong we were."

Both Starfleet officers nodded in agreement. The young man, however, was not finished. He continued speaking, as his eyes shone with hope.

"And in spite of all our wrongs to them, they came to help us when we were in need. They continue to help us, to heal the deep wounds war had left on us all." A pause, and he straightened up. "I plan a new Cardassia, as our leaders say, but not one based in greed or personal glory, but sharing and understanding."

And seeing and listening to the three of them, Saavik could almost believe that the terrible and bloody rift that separated both the Bajoran and the Cardassian people was finally been closed, even if another war had had to be suffered for the former wounds to start to heal. But that was still just a dream, for the three people welcoming them could not represent their worlds but just themselves.

However, Ba'el eyes brightened with each of his words. She thought that if Cardassians and Bajorans could forgive each other and live together peacefully, could not Klingons and Romulans do the same? Could not come a time, not so far in the future, when her parents' love could be seen as a good natural relationship instead of an unforgivable sin?

An hour later, they visited the town. In spark contrast to the city they knew, the newly built houses were simple and small. There was still much to be done, and Saavik and Ba'el watched some town inhabitants work in the construction of a new recreation area were still there was only debris. After that, they were led to the local school, which had been reconstructed with the Bajorans' help; the couple was especially proud of it. When they reached the school, a few children were playing on the courtyard. One of them quickly neared the newcomers, and beaming up greeted the three cooperators. The child hardly had time to turn toward the two strangers; a woman, probably his mother, suddenly appeared and ushered the young boy away, muttering some excuses. The couple hardly changed their expressions, but the young Cardassian was obviously disappointed, and even a bit hurt. Actually, there was still a lot of resentment between their people.


	7. Chapter 7

Once free of the three cooperators, Ba'el and Saavik went to their real destination. The house they were looking for was as new as the rest of them and wasn't much larger or taller. It was also built in the same standard white and beige concrete most of the buildings have been rebuilt. The old stones and elaborate mosaics that had once welcomed the visitors were gone, and only some colorful paintings and added decorations in the main façade had replaced them.

As they neared the place, some words crudely painted at one wall got their attention. They could not understand Cardassian script, but they had made out one word: Federation.

Out of curiosity, Ba'el took out a tricorder she was carrying, scanned the words and the two of them waited expectantly for the translation. "Stop the new occupation. The Federation is now invading us. Resist." Their eyes met, but they made no comment aloud. Yes, there were still many wounds to heal.

The two Federation officers, with the new revelation present in their mind, stood by the main doors of the house they were looking for and pressed the bell. Only a red light tilting on the accompanying panel told them they had been acknowledged. They had to wait for a few minutes before someone came directly to open the door. It was a middle-aged Cardassian man dressed in an elegant hand-made suit who welcomed them with a bright grin and a sparkle in his eyes.

"What an unexpected visit!" he cheerfully exclaimed. "Please come in, my old friends!"

He stepped back to let them go in and bowing lightly stretched his hand to show them the way. Saavik inclined her head in return as the half Klingon just grunted. They both went in. As the man closed the door behind him, he took a quick glance to the desert streets outside. Saavik and Ba'el were waiting for him; he took the lead immediately and guided them towards the house's interiors all the while rambling without really saying anything.

The reptilian man took them to an ornamented large room dominated by a big oval table and two smaller ones at each side. The sparse light that let the room folded in shadows and the warm colors were meant to make people feel welcome, but both visitors would have preferred a better lit place. Their host stood by the door once it shut behind him, and instinctually Saavik tensed; she had already assessed it was the only entrance. He was still warmly smiling at them and there was hardly a change in his voice or his expression as he abandoned his idly monologue to ask what he really intended to.

"This is really an unexpected visit, and I haven't decided yet if it is one I welcome." He shifted his gaze to lock eyes with Saavik. "You obviously aren't here to visit an old friend, are you, Admiral? Besides, we can hardly be considered friends."

Saavik did not react in anyway, even if it was true she had always considered the Cardassian's unreadable smile annoying. However, the younger officer's temper flared easier. She immediately bared her teeth in anger. She didn't get any further, though, since their host turned to look at her as he finished his sentence and laughed lightly at seeing her reaction.

"Ah, lieutenant Ba'el, always so protective! But there is nothing wrong in what I said."

"Nothing wrong," Saavik nodded; she noted Ba'el straining to control herself beside her, her hand lingering very close to the blade she kept with her. "We have never been friends, Garak," she agreed, "but you have been a good ally. You have been very helpful to the Federation and that is something we will always be grateful for."

In spite of the Vulcan's seriousness, the former spy broke into a loud laugh, immensely amused.

"Ha! But you aren't here to award me with a medal!" he replied.

At that moment, he walked forward, leaving the door in direction to the table.

Saavik did not relax yet. She answered curtly, "No, we are not."

"A pity. It would look so well in my jacket, don't you think?" he mocked as he turned to caress his costume. "Something to drink?" he offered.

None of them answered, but accompanied him to the table.

"Please, sit. We'll share a glass of Rokassa juice, good drink, a relaxing one, for occasions as the one we have at hand." He moved to a nearby furniture to pick up the juice; he took three globes too.

The two officers took the offered seat, however they could not feign the relaxed atmosphere their host seemed so interested in creating. Ba'el tried to smile, but his still gritted teeth only formed a grimace; she eyed the glass with suspicion. Saavik studied the globe before her; it was of a beautiful blue crystal and had some Cardassian letters carved on it; again, she couldn't read them out.

Garak sat down too and filled the glasses to his hosts. "So tell me, Admiral, why are you here?"

Saavik went straight to the point, "A fellow Admiral of the Romulan Fleet has gone missing. I wonder if you happen to have heard of it."

Garak chuckled; he sipped his drink. "Did you hear I retired?"

Saavik's penetrating stare drilled on him. The Cardassian man met her eyes unflinchingly, still an amused glint in them. The three of them stayed silent and still for a moment; finally, he conceded, "Never heard of it."

He drank from his globe again and rested on his chair. Ba'el's eyes hardened and her hand pressed her own globe tighter. However, Garak hadn't finished. Again, he flashed them a smile. "Heard of other people, though. Some former colleagues; happens from time to time. They disappear, or suddenly have an accident, or suffer a heart attack…" Garak stopped to muse. "A few of them, lately."

Now the two Starfleet officers were listening with eager interest.

"Do you know that several Cardassian scientists have died lately too?" A brief pause; another sip. "Not that any of these has anything to do with your missing Admiral. I wonder why the Federation would care about a Romulan. Are you really intimating that much?"

His grin really annoyed Saavik that time, but she kept herself under control. Ba'el did react, glaring at him even more. She disliked the disdainful way most people spoke about the Romulans, as if they were all evil. There was someting in Garak's tone that implied it. Or maybe she just imagined it, because she was also prejudiced againts him. It made her pause. Both women made no comment.

Garak gave up. "Ok, I don't remember either of you being really talkative." He went back to his talk. "Any interest in Cardassian scientists? Because I know of someone who can tell you about that."

Saavik eyed her drink before looking up to Garak again. Ba'el didn't waste any time, though. "Who?" she snapped before Saavik could open her mouth.

"Aren't you asking me what I want in exchange first?" Garak lightly asked.

"We thought you would volunteer," Saavik dryly answered as she arched her eyes.

"Oh, and I would!" the former spy cheerfully exclaimed; he added, "If you volunteer back."

Again, Ba'el's eyes narrowed and she leaned dangerously forward. However, Saavik played calmly with her glass. "Of course," she agreed.

Garak's easy smile broadened. "A name," he offered: "Relnak."


	8. Chapter 8

It was dark outside, and two moons could be seen up in the sky from the modest bedroom's window. However, none of the two Cardassians was paying attention to them. The older man was sat on his bed, still wearing his tick pajamas; he was feeling cold, though. Trying not to show his unrest, he answered firmly, "I tell you I know nothing more!"

The woman standing by his side hardly smiled at him; her icy eyes rested calmly on him. "Why do you insist on lying to me?" Her gaze intensified. "Why do you insist on lying to us? This is the last time I ask nicely. Why were you spared?" She leaned forward until their faces were almost touching each other.

The man averted his eyes for a moment before answering with feigned conviction, "I don't know."

The woman straightened again and made no comment. Gazing at the sitting man with some contempt she did not care to hide, she put her hand in one of the pockets of her expensive dress. She took a small device. "It is your own choice," she said.

The man gulped and fear threatened to show in his eyes, but he did not resist when she reached out her hand to place the known device on his paled forehead; he had seen it before; he had met that same woman long time ago. It was too late to regret the decisions he had made.

"You will tell me the truth now, willingly or not." He noticed again the smile that wanted but never really reached her lips. She had always seemed very cold to him; he wondered what she actually felt. "The escaped Jem'Hadar didn't kill you. Tell me why." Again, no emotion he could read. And fearing the pain he knew would come, and knowing there was nothing more he could do, he surrendered and finally confessed her the truth. He knew he was not very brave, he was not a hero and he would never be. And, when finally he let his words free, he felt well. He had been having nightmares since a very long time, and finally, he realized they were going to go away, finally everything was going to end, because he was going to die. And surprisingly, he realized he welcomed death.


	9. Chapter 9

Two moons orbited around the Cardassian colony; however, the Federation runabout that was also their companion did not pay any attention to them. Its focus was on one apartment and its sole inhabitant. Relnak was his name. Saavik and Ba'el had immediately studied him, a notorious geneticist from a prestigious Cardassian university, an academician who seemed to spend his days learning and teaching. In a society were engineering and sciences were almost exclusively women's fields, he had earned a notable place, dismissing the deeply ingrained ideas of men being naturally unsuited for the job.

He did not seem the one to get himself involved in intergalactic plots. Garak had connected him with Ajeja's disappearance, though, and his cryptic way of speaking had insinuated to them that he would know some of their answers, and even if Garak could be very well lying to them, they had no better clue. Finding him hadn't been difficult, and entering his home was not harder. Security at Relnak's apartment was lax, just as it was in most people's houses. Both trained Federation officers could have no difficulty in disabling its alarms and transporting inside. They had scanned the small apartment first, and had as expected read the presence of a Cardassian inside, but their precise instruments had revealed something more. The Cardassian being at the apartment was, according to the sensors, dead. And that revelation had stunned both officers.

Saavik stayed on the ship; Ba'el had insisted it was safest this way and she had reluctantly agreed. The younger woman was now inside Relnak's house, in what was presumably his bedroom. The temperature was too high for her liking, and so was the humidity, and she found herself sweating the moment she was materialized. The room was dark, but an open window let the lights from the lamps outside dimly illuminate the place. She could make out the forms of the alien furniture, the bed and the still man lying on it. The tricorder over him gave her back the same grim result: the man was dead, and his DNA matched the one from Relnak. He had died from a heart attack and the tricorder read negative in all known toxins. No signs of violence, yet some of stress; nothing that could be considered abnormal. However, Ba'el tensed and drew the phaser she kept hidden under her civilian clothes. Relnak had died only twenty-four minutes ago. Quickly, she scanned all the apartment again with her tricorder: nothing; she entered Relnak's security system: no breach but theirs; she entered his computer, recorded all the data: nothing unexpected, really. There was nothing there that could help them.

Ba'el went back to the runabout. Ironically, she was feeling sick. She had never trusted Garak, and hadn't believed he would willingly help them; she had expected Relnak's link to be a dead end. This was a dead end indeed, but a quite disturbing one. Even if she had no reason to believe Garak's words now, she felt he was right: Relnak had known about Ajeya and now he was dead. With her tricorder and all its useless information still on her hands, she looked up to Saavik; she didn't need words for her to understand.

Saavik leaned her head to the side in a way Ba'el knew meant she was reflecting. Saavik considered all the possibilities, and still came to the same conclusion: Garak had cooperated with them too quickly; she remembered very well that his help to Starfleet was always given reluctantly. She considered that very probably he was deliberately misleading them. Besides, why would Ajeya be so interested in some Cardassian scientists? No matter how hard she tried, she could not make any sense of it. Saavik narrowed her eyes and locked them on Ba'el's. "We are visiting Garak again," she determinedly said.


	10. Chapter 10

It was late at night when Garak opened the door that second time, wearing only a long black cloak. He didn't have time for feigned pleasantries; Ba'el immediately pushed him aside and stormed inside, followed closely by Saavik.

"You gave us nothing, Garak," the Vulcan harshly said as she walked pass him, her crimson robes flowing, and he was shocked at the sudden violence of the Federation officers.

The two of them were striding away from him. Garak rushed to shut the door and followed them. From behind, he shouted back, "I gave you—"

"Another dead scientist," Ba'el cut him off.

That revelation stopped Garak in his tracks, but he promptly recovered and none of his not so welcomed visitors noticed.

"He obviously told us nothing, Garak," Saavik turned her head slightly to look at him in the eye, but she didn't slow her pace. "And neither did his apartment."

They came inside the same room where they had met before, and Saavik whirled on her heel sharply to face him. They were just inches apart.

"You made us waste precious time." Garak hardly knew the Federation admiral, but he had never expected her voice to sound so cold. "Did you enjoy playing games with us?"

While she was speaking, her aide had moved so she now stayed behind him. The Klingon's clothes could easily conceal weapons, and he knew very well the species' violent tendencies. Garak knew the knife on her boot was not her only weapon, and to her natural strenght, he should consider that she was probably well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Garak felt threatened and chastised himself for being caught in such a weak position; he was too experienced for that. Surely, Vulcans couldn't approve on assassination, though. Then, his memory vividly reminded him that the Federation admiral, as well as her aide, was actually half-Romulan; for the first time, he wondered how Romulan she really was.

He didn't let fear appear in his eyes, of course, and he willed himself to smile again. "I always love playing games, Admiral." Garak repositioned himself so he could still watch Ba'el; he was not about to give his back to her, and much less when he heard her growl at his words.

Garak had expected a reply, however, none came. Saavik just kept drilling her intense gaze on his; Ba'el also glared at him. He had time to think, and his mind insisted on the new information: Relnak was already dead. Many scenarios came to him. Surprisingly, he found himself blurting out a truth.

"I hate losing them, though," he dropped his mocking smirk and let a determined look took its place. It wasn't a very dangerous confession.

He tried to get away from the two officers, but they held their ground and continued blocking him. I'm trapped in my own house. He inwardly laughed at the irony of the situation, but to them, he remained serious.

"So I gave you nothing, you say," he paused; he was getting calmer in spite of his predicament. "I gave you Reltan. You are giving me nothing." His finger raised to stress his point.

"So Reltan is dead. Why?" He turned to look at Ba'el and a thin smile appeared in his lips. "Did you kill him after he told you everything he knew, Lieutenant?"

Shock registered in the young woman's face and she bared her teeth. Garak noticed her reaction before quickly shifting his gaze towards the higher ranking officer. "And now you accuse me of giving you a false clue. Is that your plan for not disclosing to me what you learnt from him?" Garak directed a cold smile at her.

However, he failed to read any reaction from Saavik. Vulcans masked their thoughts and feelings too well. He went forward. "Very clever, but, you see, it isn't working with me." He wondered how far the Federation officers were willing to go; he realized he was angry and was not about to let them go without knowing what they had found out. There was no reason for not making the statement now. "I want the truth, Admiral Saavik, and if Reltan is dead you would better say how, when, where and why."

Ba'el snorted. "Shouldn't you be the one answering that?" She asked in a barely controled voice.

Again, Saavik took him off-guard. She just retreated to calmly sat down at the forgotten table. Saavik's flat and sincere answer surprised both of them. "I never understood games." Suddenly, Garak found himself free. Ba'el was still menacingly close to him, transpirating hard due more probably to the heat than to the tension of the moment, but she didn't stop him from slowly nearing the Admiral.

Saavik had been probing the former spy's eyes the moment they went in. Garak was an expert in hiding his true feelings and intentions, but Vulcans were naturally good at spotting others' lack of sincerity, and Saavik's harsh childhood had also forcibly trained her to read other people's unconscious gestures that gave them away; survival depended on her ability to anticipate her opponent. During her lifetime, she had honed that talent to apply it to other species. She had to admit now that, against the odds, Garak was telling the truth. He had given them what he considered a good clue and now was seriously thinking they were the ones trying to fool him. Inwardly, Saavik was dryly amused. Now seated at the oval table, she contemplated her new course of action.

"You didn't lie to me when you told me to look for Reltan," she finally admitted.

Garak shook his head. The grin that so naturally came to his lips appeared again. "Oh, believe, Admiral, I lie very often." Her eyes, however, demanded a serious response, and he also conceded, "But I didn't lie to you about that." He reflected aloud, "So you really found nothing," he sighed. "How disappointing."

And suddenly, at that odd moment, Saavik had a shocking revelation. Garak had always been an irritating man to her. She tried hard to suppress the annoyance she felt, and she always succeeded, but she failed to find a rational explanation to her strong reaction. Now she knew why: there was none. She never approved of his way of life, and surely that distrust didn't help much, but the man had never wronged her or the Federation, for that matter; quite the opposite, he had served them well. But still that smirk unnerved her. A lot. Saavik contemplated the Cardassian now in a new light. She had been terribly emotional, she rebuked herself. For Garak's smile had only bothered her because it reminded her of another's. Another well dressed, not very honest man who had done her no wrong, but that she still had distrusted and despised. Archenar.

"Reltan is dead," he was musing, as he walked quietly around the room wrapped in his black robe.

"He died very conveniently from a heart attack," Ba'el supplied. She had relaxed a bit since Saavik didn't seem interested in confronting Garak anymore, but she still watched him closely, ready to strike.

Surely, Ba'el distrusted Garak as much as she had always done; however, Saavik, now she had solved her inner mystery and outdone the illogic association her mind had created, found herself completely focused, and her animosity disappeared. Archenar! She laughed at herself, before centering her attention again in the matter at hand. For the first time, when she gazed the Cardassian, she saw only him.

"I really want to find that Romulan Admiral, Garak," Saavik told him. "You must know more."

Garak chuckled. "There are no more names to offer, Admiral." He came closer and tapped the stone table to an unknown tune that apparently ran only in his head. "I retired, you know?" he said leaning forward her. "You can't expect me to know everything happening around Cardassia Prime."

From behind, Ba'el spoke up again. "Spies never retire."

The Cardassian never ceased his trumping, but turned his head lightly to face the younger Klingon officer, grinning brightly. "Oh, believe me, I have retired many times."

Saavik suppressed a sigh. "You know something you aren't telling us."

"I know a lot of 'somethings!" Garak answered lightly, "but if you want me to share all with you, I'd better open another bottle of juice and prepare some food, because this is going to take days." He finally interrupted his tapping. "Of course," he inclined his head to the side before continuing, "none of them has anything to do with your missing Romulan." He paused; he looked intently at her dark eyes. "About that, I know nothing more," he sentenced.

And Saavik knew he was lying. She also knew she could not press him any further, though. He would not willingly give her anything else, forcing him was never an option and she certainly could not think of a way to circle him around. She looked up to Ba'el; she didn't know what more to do either.

Saavik resigned herself and stood up. "Then, I will not delay you further. I assume you would like to return to bed."

"Yes," he answered as he accompanied her, followed as always by Ba'el, towards the door, "and you would do well in resting too. Even Vulcans have to sleep, don't they?"

Saavik didn't reply. She continued walking as she contemplated the variety of paintings that decorated the corridors; Cardassians had always been known for their fondness of art. One of them caught her eye slightly longer than the others; it wasn't exceptionally good, but she had recognized the signature: Ziyal.

Garak noted. To her surprise, he stopped and looked at the big abstract picture. "Do you find it beautiful?" he asked, and his voice grew soft. Saavik doubted the answer. However, he didn't seem to mind. "It was painted by Ziyal. She was the only Cardassian company I had during my time in Deep Space Nine." Saavik wondered if the sleep deprivation was affecting him, because the man seemed to be drifting to personal issues with unexpected sincerity. In a quick glance, she assessed Ba'el was as puzzled as she was. Garak, however, was still speaking, "Anyone is good company when you are so alone."

Sleep deprivation ought to be affecting her too, since suddenly old memories assaulted her: she had really been completely alone too. And realized the irony of Ziyal been called a Cardassian; she had been an hybrid, just like herself, and Ba'el, and probably she had felt as comfortable with the Cardassian label as she had with the Romulan one. Reflecting about that, she thanked Garak would never have such a thought and make such comparisons.

"Tell me, Admiral, does Vulcan ever really feel like home?"

The shocking question came through her mind like a photon torpedo. She fought hard to not show any reaction. Is he reading my mind? And why is he asking me that? For a second, she thought he was taunting her, but his voice was tender, his smile bleak, and there was something in his eyes that spoke of pain.

She answered sincerely, "Yes, it does."

His smile dropped; something crossed his eyes. Disappointment? And he suddenly shut down. "Oh, sorry. It's really late. You'd better go."

"Of course," came Ba'el's hash reply. Saavik just noticed she had a worried look that hardly eased when she heard Garak's dismissal words.

"Thanks for your help and your hospitality, Garak," Saavik said as farewell.

"You are welcome," he replied, "I would wish you luck, but I don't believe in that." And the two Federation officers soon found themselves alone in the dark streets.


	11. Chapter 11

The pub was supposed to be closed; he was not even supposed to be there, but he was. He wondered if someone would miss him soon and look for him. He was conflicted about if he really wanted them to come; he feared for his life, and was afraid of what could happen to others if they also arrived.

The Romulans had come again, when he was about to shut down the place after a long night. He had only seen the two younger ones. The couple hadn't give him a chance to pry this time; they had directly locked him up in the store. He was very nervous, but hoped they would not harm him, as it had happened before. However, he was not so sure of his outcome now.

Another intruder had entered his pub. He was already at the store when they have left him trapped inside, but he hadn't seen him until he had revealed himself. Another alien; another menacing one. He had come out from shadows he had just realized existed in the small cramped room, and flashing a smile had cheerfully said, "So it seems I'm going to have company."

But the intruder didn't really like his company. He had hovered over him the next instant, and before he could react, he had pressed something, an hypo maybe, against his exposed neck. Suddenly, he had felt all his muscles been paralyzed, and he could not move. He had stayed like a statue, his eyes wide in fear, looking up at the stranger. The man had flashed him another smile, and had menaced him with death if he dared say a word. He hadn't. Actually he couldn't. And his assailant knew that.

He wondered if watching the stranger was really a good idea, but his eyes were glued to him. The intruder was at the door now. He had slipped a minuscule device through under the door, or so he thought, because he actually could not see it; it was too small. After that, he placed a slightly bigger device at his temple. The bartender realized with surprise that he knew what it was, even if his mind was getting foggy and he was having difficulties to focus. The intruder was getting the image and the sounds of what was happening at the other side directly to his mind. High technology. Something big was happening. Incredibly, his place had suddenly become the center of some alien espionage operation. He shuddered. Surely none of these people wanted an undesired witness alive. He wondered if they could find him useful for a long time; he doubted it. He wasn't a believer, but for the first time in many years, he prayed.


	12. Chapter 12

Ba'el observed closely the Romulan commander and her two silent officers. Saavik implicitly trusted them, she even spoke fondly of them, but Ba'el disliked the fact that the three strangers knew something about Saavik she didn't, and it was something important. It was the reason why the five of them were meeting there: the mysterious Admiral Ajeya.

Raghnil was really a younger copy of her mother, at least physically, and she had a magnetic presence that rivaled Saavik. It was paradoxical that Saavik could admire one woman and hate the other when they seemed so similar. The Romulan commander was seated at the other side of the small squared table they shared, with her somber officers posted at guards behind her. Ba'el noticed soon they looked at Saavik with appreciation, even devotion, but the glances directed at her weren't as friendly, and suspicion was clearly written in their eyes. They disliked her because to their eyes she was Klingon; they would probably despise her even more if they learned she was actually half-Romulan. No matter how many years had passed since Worf revealed to her how unacceptable her nature was to most of both her people, it still pained her greately. The distrust didn't seem to be shared by their superior, though; she was apparently satisfied with the fact that Saavik vouched for her. For that, Ba'el also trusted the commander.

Raghnil massaged her temple with her fingers before echoing, "A Cardassian scientist."

"A geneticist, " Ba'el supplied, "he has worked in many leading projects, some of them, quite disturbing, linked to the former Obsidian Order; however, he was also notable in the academic circles for speaking up in favor of the individual rights and against their government's too controlling politics."

Ba'el noticed the intriging looks the three officers gave her when she spoke in flawless Romulan for the first time. She was not about to inform them that she was Romulan too. It was not a good moment, and it would only complicate matters even more, but she wished she could, she wanted to scream to the whole universe of her parents' love and damned all the racists who were too narrow-minded to understand.

"Illogical," Saavik muttered, cutting off her aide's trail of thoughts and turning her back to reality.

"I still don't understand what all this has to do with Admiral Ajeya!" the commander exclaimed.

Ba'el was intrigued by Raghnil's formality; most of the time, she apparently refused to use the word "mother", maybe it was something Romulan, another part of their culture her father had neglected to teach her. Of course, she did not know she consciously skipped the word so it would not remind Saavik of her past. Saavik reflected her half-sister was also being illogical; what was, was, and that was a truth she could not forget, no matter how hard Raghnil tried to avoid it.

"We cannot understand it either, Raghnil," Saavik calmly answered her.

"It is all we have found out for now. Ajeya was investigating this scientist and others who have recently died. She was probably interested in what they were researching. We still do not know the nature of that research."

Raghnil shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense," she commented. "She would not risk everything for some stupid Cardassian scientific project!"

"You forgot to mention those involved in the project were killed."

Ba'el regretted her words the moment the Romulan commander fixed her narrowed eyes on her, a menacing glint lighting them.

"I don't forget, Lieutenant Ba'el," she corrected her, "I just don't care, and neither would she!"

"However," Saavik added, "she did care, for some odd reason, and now she is missing because of that."

Ba'el was grateful Raghnil shifted now her gaze and softened it to look at her old friend. She tilted her head a bit in reflection. "Your source must be misleading you," she concluded. "Maybe she was uncovering some Cardassian plot against the Empire and she was discovered. Of course, your Cardassian acquaintance doesn't want to cooperate."

Saavik also gave it a thought before replying, "I know he's withholding something, but he isn't misleading me."

"He isn't helping much, either!" Raghnil exploded, and for the first time Ba'el could see clearly the distress the Romulan commander was under. She quickly composed herself, but when she spoke again, lower this time, her voice was still filled with sadness, "What I'm supposed to do now? I can't find mother with that! I'm still in the dark."

Saavik did not like the situation either; for her it was also hard to accept she could not help. She looked sympathetically at her half-sister. She was about to speak, but Raghnil did it first.

"I guess I'll have to start thinking of a way to explain this to my superiors. She-," her voice cracked with the pain it caused her to pronounce the words, "she is lost." She fought back the tears.

"I grieve with thee," Saavik solemnly said.

The other two Romulan officers also looked down and struggled with their own strong emotions. Ba'el did not know well what to do or say. She could not think for long, though.

"What the hell are you doing?!" A voice shouting from behind in flawless Ki-Baratan accented Romulan startled all them.

The two Romulan officers looked immediately up as they pointed their disruptors at the intruder. Ba'el and Saavik stood up and turned as they drew their phasers. too Raghnil had her own weapon steady aimed at him.

"That's not necessary," the newcomer said as he slowly raised his hands.

However, none of them lowered their arms. Cold anger had taken the place of the initial surprise; Raghnil was piercing the man with her sparkling blue eyes. A Cardassian, one who was somewhat familiar to her; she tried hard to remember in the brief instants before asking directly, "Who are you?"

"Garak," the man affably said; and then she knew, she had read reports of his role during the Dominion war. "I'm the misleading source," he mockingly said, a wry grin plastered in his scaled face.

A dry smile answered his remark, but Raghnil held her disruptor tighter. Her mind had quickly displayed her all the information she had about that man. The Federation spoke well of him, but he was considered responsible of at least one notable murder in the Empire when he worked as an Obsidian Order operative in Romulus. He was an assassin.

Her officers, who had secured the building before, and Ba'el, who had also checked the place was safe, were feeling chagrined. They were not the only ones. Saavik was frowning, wondering how it was possible that Garak had found their meeting place. She had thought she had been careful. So had Raghnil. But the veteran spy was there, smiling at them and with a still unknown agenda. Saavik knew it was futile to ask him how he had managed to outsmart all of them, so she went for a more practical question.

"Garak, what are you doing here?" she coldly asked.

Garak kept his hands raised and remained still, but he was not intimidated. "I asked that first, and I ask again." To the others' shock, he berated them, "I thought you were warriors, that you fought hard for what you wanted, but instead, you just give in the moment you find a difficulty!"

They all heard a disruptor's discharge, and the next instant a big ugly scorched hole could be seen at Garak's feet, even if he himself was untouched.

"You want to die, don't you?" said the young Romulan man, the one who had fired, as he drilled his glare at Garak.

If the shot had frightened the Cardassian, he did not show it. He ignored the question and turned instead to Ragnhil with a new one, "Would you kill a defenseless man?" Then he grinned as he immediately answered himself, "Oh, of course you would." His eyes moved to meet the Federation officers next, "Would you?"

"Even in this situation, I'd hardly call you a defenseless man, Garak," Ba'el replied him mirroring his mocking smile.

"And I'd really love to kill you," Ragnhil added, a dangerous sparkle briefly lighting her eyes.

"And I'd kill you all too," Garak continued with his dangerous approach, "you're such a disappointment!"

Saavik raised her hand, holding the possible violent reply of her enraged companions. "Because we give in," she coolly completed, "and you do not want us to give in. Why, Garak? What is your interest in finding Admiral Ajeya?"

"Ah, Saavik, always straight to the point," Garak said back with some irony. "I have no interest in finding Admiral Ajeya. I just expected you to investigate further her disappearance so you would lead me to the one I'm really looking for. But now it seems it'll have to be the other way around!"

"And who are you looking for?"

Garak did not like a bit the edge in the Romulan commander's hardly controlled voice. Inwardly, he flickered his gaze towards the weapon she gripped, before turning again to look at her furious eyes. "Will you investigate further if I tell you?" Garak asked first.

"There is nothing I want more," she was being frank.

Then, he simply admitted, "Koval."

Ragnhil winced at the revelation, so did her officers behind her. "Koval? Chairman Koval?"

When Garak just nodded and murmured, "uh huh," in reply, Ragnhil's blood ran cold. If he really was misleading them, that was surely a shocking, and frustrating, way to do it. Koval was the Tal Shiar's commanding officer, a man she despised, but one she could not touch; she would never dare to try.

"My mother was after Koval?" Ragnhil blurted out her disbelief.

"Apparently, she was."

"And why are you after Koval?" It was Saavik's time to ask; she wasn't liking the new implications, either.

"My reasons are my own," his answer was firm.

"And what does Koval have to do with that mysterious Cardassian project?" Ba'el added her own question.

Before Garak could say a word to Ba'el, Ragnhil forcefully spoke, "Do you know what happened to my mother?" There was a threatening underlying to the interjection.

Garak took a breath to calm down before talking again. There was too much tension in the room. "I don't know," he pronounced slowly every syllable. "But I know about the project, yes, and about Koval's implication on it. Actually, most of what I know, it's thanks to her," he laughed at that. "I don't like standing here with all of you pointing your guns at me, though. Could you just lower your weapons and let me sit?" They did not; they were looking expectantly at him. However, he confidently took a step forward and went on, "The moment has come to admit a new member in your partnership, don't you think?"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Koval and Cretak are characters from the episode "Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges" of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

Asfastr had always been taught to admire Romulan soldiers, however, he could not help but despise those who were now escorting him. He tried to remember all his mother had once instilled into him, but it was precisely thinking of his mother and all those not so old beliefs fell apart to show him a far bitter version of the world around him. He had also noticed the Romulan insignia that proudly had welcomed him as he had entered the building; once he had felt comforted by its presence, now it seemed oppressive. He had always known how quickly circumstances could change; he had just not expected them to change his own person too. He realized he was not who he used to be.

He walked the prison's wide corridor in silence; nothing but the rhythmic sounds of the guards' boots against the gray corridor could be heard. He hated that silence. The clear lights and the tidiness of the place also bothered him. They masked well the grim reality awaiting once into the isolated cells; they tricked him to make him feel safe.

Several doors and force fields were left behind, and finally he found himself facing the same dreadful room. Asfastr told himself that he should feel glad, even elated, but he always feared the next encounter with his mother. He was afraid he would be unable to smile, to tell her some positive words; he feared he would break down and burst into tears, and make her life even more miserable than it already was.

At the windowless room there were only two metal chairs fixed to the floor; her mother was seated on one of them, straight and calm. Again, he made a conscious effort to smile at her, and her own lips creaked a light smile as her eyes brightened. Asfastr studied her as he always did. There were no visible bruises, but he could see another new wrinkle on her forehead. Her prison clothes were clean, as well as her still perfectly cut and trimmed hair. She looked just fine; she always said she was treated well, but that could easily be a lie told to protect both of them.

The jailers had left them alone. Asfastr took the empty chair and sat across his mother. He reached his hand to delicately take hers, and she caressed his, and her weak smile turned more sincere. It was a private moment, if they could just forget they were actually being closely monitored; they both were painfully aware of how far freedom was from them. Even if only three years ago she had been a promising senator and her name, Cretak, was often spoken as one to hold a position in the Continuing Committee, now she was just a prisoner who fought to avoid the death penalty, and nobody cared about the past, because one could only live at the present. And the present was harsh.

Simple words came next. He hated again the moment when she asked him about his job. He knew well she resented he had left the military soon after she was imprisoned; she had always told him how important it was for her, she just couldn't understand how unbearable it was for him. But he had no right to tell her that, not when she was the one who was in and he the one who was out. Unable to fulfill one of her wishes, he concentrated all his efforts in pleasing the other.

And he was also failing in that. Silent came; she was expecting the news. He met her eyes and fear appeared for an instant on them; he didn't want to hurt her, but she deserved the truth. He dragged his words out.

"I sent greetings to your friend, but she hasn't answered back. Again."

Her hands rested now on her lap; she had still that serene pose that no hardship seemed able to break. He admired her fortitude.

"So finally I've been left alone," she commented, but he couldn't read any sarcasm. "I was extremely surprised that she answered me the first time. I'm not a very useful ally now," and a brief sardonic smile crossed her lips.

"Maybe she's just been delayed," he tried to cheer her up.

Her mother scowled. "You know well she is not," she rebuked. "I guess he was right when he said I was a fool."

Those words hurt him deeply, they showed the strain she was under; her pride would have never allowed her to speak them out before. "You just did what you thought was right!" Asfastr shouted, and found himself standing up as he defended his point. He hated his mother would say such things of herself, especially when he really approved on her past actions.

However, a slight movement of her hand commanded him back to his chair. He remembered they were under surveillance.

"And I was wrong," she answered, and her firm tone told him clearly she did not care about them; she also believed in the words she said. She hardly lowered her eyes for a single instant before continuing, "I know that now. I regretted my decision the moment I did it. Obviously, too late."

Cretak smiled sympathetically at him. "I just wanted to do right," she paused. "But there is nothing else we can do, Ligriv," he gulped at the mention of his secret name, and fought back the tears, "I guess we just have to resign to the sour fact that we have been outmatched and the game is over now."

Her mother had always been pragmatic; still, her will to improve had helped her overcome the odds several times before. However, she was finally giving up to reality in this last fight.

"There is still a chance," he blurted out before he could think about what he was doing. "I know someone who may be able to help us!"

"You do?" she seemed skeptical.

He lowered his eyes and nervously fidgeted with his hands before confessing, "You aren't going to like him. You wouldn't want him involved." It was all he risked to say.

Her playful smile was a stark contrast against his grim look. "You aren't going to tell me you have befriended one of my political enemies? Senator Romalek?" It was amazing she was still able to joke about under the circumstances.

He certainly couldn't. He whispered, "I wish."

Cretak leaned forward and fixed her determined gaze on her insecure son. "There is a real traitor in our midst, and anyone who can help us to expose the rat and avoid further damage to the Empire is welcome." She rarely spoke so clearly about what she was intending to do now; she always feared unwanted ears. But she wanted to reassure him.

Asfastr averted his light brown eyes, thought, fearing she could read right through them. It was ironic she would pick those words to encourage him. He didn't really care about the traitor, or the Empire; he just wanted to prove her innocence and help her out.

"I will contact him. He's our last chance." His mood was still dark.

Her mother frowned seeing he wasn't comforted by her words, but she didn't question further. "Good," she said, and so their next step was settled.


	14. Chapter 14

Asfastr liked his life as an artisan much more than he had ever enjoyed his military service. Not even when his mother was a renowned senator and his family name was respected, his time in the fleet had been really pleasant. He had become a soldier because his relatives would have never allowed a different choice; it would have been dishonorable. During that time, he actually thought they were right. During that time he actually felt proud of wearing the uniform, of upholding the Empire and its values; during that time he even agreed with them that they protected the Romulan people. Of course, his mother still believed all that; she was so utterly loyal to her former life style that not even being condemned as a traitor had shaken her firm principles; she even thought her imprisonment was fair. He did not.

His mother's sudden fall from glory had changed him very much, and even if sometimes he still felt somewhat ashamed of the decisions he had made, he actually knew he had done what was right. He was never cut to be a soldier; he was an artist and his career choice was as necessary and honorable as the military or politics were. However, he had become a second class citizen, even a suspicious one, and that didn't help much Cretak's cause. For that reason, he still put on his old uniform sometimes and even went to some veterans' meetings, even if he really didn't feel very comfortable; Asfastr realized he needed to show he was still a loyal Romulan, even if somewhat odd.

But oddities were always threats to the Empire. Dressed in correct clothes, his hair only slightly longer than usual, Asfastr tried everyday to look as average as possible, even if his heart cried out for rebellion. At the privacy of his home, he experimented with the most striking forms of art, but he was only known for the creations he did mainly for military officers and government officials, which followed strictly the classical Romulan themes and styles. Still, every piece of work was an expression of inner liberation for him.

He had decorated his small humble home with many of his paintings and sculptures, as well as those of other fellow artists he had met and befriended. One of those was of special importance to him. After visiting his mother, he had went home and he had inwardly came to rest in front of it. He kept an armchair there, for he usually spent a lot of time contemplating it. It was a ceramic set'leth decorated with semi-precious stones; it was a valuable piece, but people could not imagine how much. A close friend had created it for him, one who was used to keep dangerous secrets and never questioned him. The sculpted animal was in fact a high security box and inside was the most precious documents he held.

His mother took a while in realizing she had been framed. During her first months of imprisonment, she never suspected a black hand could be behind her arrest. She only cursed the Federation and their foul plans, and especially their doctor who had so easily convinced her to commit such a crime. She swore revenge against that Doctor Bashir and his feigned naivety, and all his empty words about peace and friendship between their people. Doctor Bashir never believed in any of them, of course, and she shouldn't have either. She cursed herself for trying to help an enemy, two of them, actually, and falling instead into a trap. She regretted deeply having tried to save Koval's life; he certainly hadn't returned the favor. That's when she turned to insult her political adversary too, and then finally, four months after that disgraceful day who changed their lives, she started to accuse him directly of framing her.

When Asfastr first heard of it, he just thought that her mother was losing her mind, and his sheer fear made him try to shut her up. As chairman of the Tal Shiar and a member of the Continuing Committee, Koval was not a man Asfastr wanted to cross. But Cretak insisted; she remembered how Koval had approached Bashir and how they have talked more than once, when she and most notable Romulans could never get an appointment with him; she said that Koval wanted to get rid of her since they both competed for the same chair in the Committee and he had conveniently recruited Bashir for his cause. She still blamed the Federation, she still despised the human doctor, but she now was obsessed it was all Koval's plot. She had been the one to set her up, and even from prison, she intended to make him pay.

Asfastr contemplated the image, and reached out his hand to caress it. Some ugly scraps crossed its otherwise smooth surface, but he didn't care. His hand trembled slightly. He remembered how shaken he was the first day he heard his mother's fragrant accusations, and the first weeks afterward. He thought Koval would fall upon him; he never did. Apparently, he had better things to do than pay attention to the delirious claims of his disgraced former rival. Still, Asfastr was unable again to fulfill his mother's desires, and he never contacted her old friends and allies to ask for help; her mother insisted on retribution, but the only retribution he feared was Koval's. He shamefully realized he had been a coward; he did not help his mother out.

Cretak's insane theories could easily have ended at her cell's deaf walls, except that her son was really feeling guilty for failing her so much, and one day, stricken with grief, he blurted out his predicament to the only persons he really trusted. And one of them really heard him out.

That's when the ceramic set'leth entered his life. It was left at his door's threshold by someone nobody saw. He had at first looked puzzled at it, and as everyone who gazed upon it, he never imagined it could be more than a statue. But the anonymous gift came with a note, and when he entered his house and read it, he was amazed at the sophistication of it, and also intimidated.

A first opening sequence following a previously established order of touching the small gems that were incrusted in it. Then a retinal scan, a DNA analysis and finally a voice command. Once the not so unanimated animal had ensured it was really him the one before it and there was no danger, the security box opened its contains. Frightening contains. For inside it were several recordings belonging to Chairman Koval, documents that went far beyond what his mother ever attempted to obtain. Links between Koval and the Federation he would have never suspected. None was a real proof of his treachery, but the word treason seemed to be written all over them.

When he first set his eyes on them, he tried frantically to shut the box again, to get rid of the sculpture and all its wicked contents; he was hysterical. Once he calmed down as much as he could, he wondered who had sent him the set'leth and with what purpose. It had to be someone from his group and the reason why… He could not think of it. He wondered if it could all be a forgery, but this time he pledged himself to find it out.

Still wrapped in fear, he told himself he had hidden for too long, he had been a coward for too long, he had been a dishonorable child for too long. This time, he was going to do as his mother wished, and making copies of the striking information he had then in his power, he sent it out to all his mother's former contacts, exhorting them to help them to expose the truth and the man who had wronged them.

None of them answered back, of course, but Koval. He approached him in the streets a few days after sending his stunning messages; several of Cretak's old allies had changed sides and had quickly informed on him. Asfastr had feared he would arrest him; he had expected the Tal Shiar to take him to some horrible place and force him to reveal everything he knew. But Koval just invited him to a soup at a nearby restaurant, and very gently he insisted his mother had just lost her mind, as he had firstly assumed, and he would do well in not pursuing her mad ideas. He had inquired about the original documents of the copies he had sent, but he hadn't pressed much; he had assured him they were all fake, and he didn't really care about them. After finishing his soup, he had left him alone.

No hard questioning. No reprisals. Just a veiled threat if he continued showing the controvert files. And a search. Several of them, actually. Asfastr found his home had been searched more than once. It was one of that times when the precious statuette was damaged, probably because someone had suspected of it and had tried to force it open. But they had failed, since the data was still in there. That's when he realized that Koval only feigned to be uninterested, while he tried hard to recover his private recordings, and that could only be due to a reason: they were true, and truths were always far more dangerous than lies.

Koval, however, had still the upper hand, since Asfastr was alone, with no powerful allies who could support him and prove him right. He only had his sculpture and that was not enough. Two months passed and all he could tell to his mother was to hope, even if he had lost faith. And again, something unexpected waited for him in his threshold. A person this time, an aged woman he had never met. She had hardened features, an old scar crossing her right cheek and two piercing blue eyes. That's why he recognized her. He had sent a note to her too. Admiral Ajeya. Always an ally, never a friend, his mother used to say about her. He shuddered, and wondered what else was to come.

Surprisingly, Ajeya had helped him until now. She had told him she also had a feud with Koval, even if she had refused to clarify which one, and had become the powerful and resourceful ally they needed. She had dug further in Koval's many dirty business and last time they talked she assured him she had the final evidence, the one they needed to expose him as a traitor and make him fall; there was venom in her voice when she spoke. But that was forty days ago by now, and he already knew something had gone afoul.

The set'leth and him were alone again, and even if much have been discovered and they had enough evidence to accuse him of several crimes, they lacked the sounding proof they needed to expose him as a Federation operative, and this way, he hoped, free his mother. Besides, Ajeya had kept for herself all the other evidence she had found, and he only had the copies. Asfastr mussed. It was funny, Koval was really a Federation collaborator, and he, of all people, pretended to spot him out. And he planned to do it in the most ludicrous way. A sly smile formed on his lips. Life really had a twisted sense of humor.


	15. Chapter 15

Nobody paid attention to Asfastr as he crossed Ki Baratan's crowded streets. He passed by some soldiers who patrolled the city, but they didn't even spare a look at him. That was one advantage of being just a common worker. Other fellow artists always got attention, either for their appearances or their work. The police usually stopped them and the Tal Shiar kept them under surveillance, even if they had proven to be harmless and even were appreciated by those in power. The Empire also needed them, but preferred to closely watch them. As an average artisan, however, and one who had served in the military, they hardly cared about him, though, or so he thought. He had been in real danger when he decided to support her mother's lost cause, but since he had seemed to forget about it, so had seemed to do Koval.

And now he was free, just another anonymous citizen doing his daily errands, or idly walking the capitol's promenades. It was very important for him to melt in, because his family's dishonor, his suspecting job and his assistance to his mother's plans were minor trouble for what he really was in. Dryly, he mused, his mother had been wrongly accused of treason, however, there was a real traitor in the family, and that was him.

Asfastr left the main street to enter a park. There were many beautiful parks in Ki Baratan, and the children played in them, ignorant of the turbulent lives their parents led. Asfastr was born a rebel; he always questioned the government, the system, his education, his family, even the very Romulan way. However, his dissident opinions had always stayed silent in his mind, because he doubted seriously he could be right. Until his mother was apprehended and charged with treason. That day he realized something had to change. They were too violent, too intransigent, too narrow-minded; their government was too controlling, too manipulative, too corrupt. That day he decided that maybe he could not change his world, but he could at least improve his life and follow his own ideas; that day he set up for himself a new better code of values and courageously followed it. The moment he could, he left the military and pursued a new career in arts. The moment he could, he stopped warring and shyly started to talk about freedom and peace.

Asfastr took a narrow path into a cool forest; shadows loomed over him. He stopped to see if someone was following him. He appeared to be alone. He grasped the shoulder bag he was carrying tightly and went forward.

He could have gotten too many attention once he started to speak up, but the art school was an open space, and many radical but rather harmless young Romulans studied there. Nobody thought his views odd, and nobody cared about him, at least at first.

A small glade opened. Grass grew and covered completely a slight elevation to his left. It seemed a natural part of the terrain, but Asfastr knew it was actually a maintenance hut, constructed to melt with the surrounding vegetation and not damage the landscape. He neared it and crouched to reach a small digital panel. He pressed a code. The apparent ground turned out to be a door that opened with a hiss; there was light inside. Asfastr went in.

Asfastr had started working for his former fellow officers the moment he left the fleet. He had a natural talent for painting and he needed the money to go on with his life. He had hoped to dedicate his life to art, though, and when after six months in the art academy one of his teachers told him he had an offer for him, he thought his chance had come. His teacher, however, was not interested in his creations but in his ideas. They shared views for a while. Three months later, his new friend explained him a new revolutionary idea that would again shake his little world and commit him forward into his new way of life. That day not so far away he had discovered the movement his soul have blindly been searching for so long. That day his heart learnt a new word: Unification.

The maintenance hut was a cramped room that very difficult could serve as a meeting place. However, once the doors closed behind him and he felt safe and alone, he reached for the rudimentary computer inside and keyed his orders. There was a parallel city running in Ki Baratan's underground, and of course, the maintenance hut also had its entrance to the one under the park. Asfastr took down the stairs that led him into the tunnels, and the hut automatically switched off the lights.

So he was a traitor, or so said the Empire's official policy, and he knew he would be executed if he was caught. But he considered himself a patriot, for he fought for the Romulan people, for a better future for them, for a very needed change. Vulcans and Romulans were distant cousins and yet still very different. However, he reflected, nothing was gained from their mutual disdain and isolation, and much was learnt from sharing their views. Surak's way had helped him much, and he looked upon the day the old prejudices would fall and both their people could be again one.

When any Romulan wanted to do something illegal, they went down to the tunnels; everybody knew that, and the Tal Shiar searched them often. However, they were a complex labyrinth, one too wide and too chaotic to really control. Even if the Unification movement was a high priority for the Romulan authorities, there have been no notorious detentions for the last three years. The park's secret gathering seemed to be a good choice.

Asfastr had spoken several times with the most influential members he knew in the group. He knew one of them had to be the one who had passed him the information about Koval. He wanted to take another step forward, a risky one, maybe, a crazy one, surely. As a new associate in a clandestine organization, he had never really met the majority of the people who also shared his views, and he also had never seen the one who was their best teacher. He had been told he could speak with him soon, and he had been pressing to meet him now. He desperately needed him, for he was the only Federation citizen he knew. He doubted he would help him; he wondered why he would.

Four persons waited for him at the rendezvous place, the four of them very well known. They had become a second family to him. There was his teacher, talking with the older man who seemed to know so much about Vulcan and its culture. Listening intently was a young girl, the man's niece; she was always near him. And finally, a bit apart from the rest, a sensual woman whose usual aloofness only made Asfastr feel more attracted to her. He gulped; even in his predicament, he could not help fantasying with her, and for a moment his mind forgot all his worries, as he recreated himself with her presence. Reality hit him again, thought, and the old fears returned. Grasping his bag firmly, he fought to dominate the anxiety that threatened to overcome him. He neared them and shared greetings. Asfastr didn't dare to ask if he was really going to come. Since he had joined the movement, he had thought thousands of questions he wanted to pose to him; however, now, he only had one inquiry. With Surak's teachings, he tried to free his mind and heart, but the truth was his soul was still prisoner of his perceived failure to his mother. He could never run free until he settled that, and he was now before his last opportunity.

Silence. Asfastr noticed he was sweating. He could not help but fidget nervously.

"You wanted to see me."

The deep voice startled him. The five of them turned to face a tall hooded figure that came forward them from the darkness that enfolded them.

"Live long and prosper, Spock," said the eldest man between them.

"Peace and long life," answered back the man as he lifted his right hand in the Vulcan salute.

He neared them, and gazed each of them with a schooled serenity that could only be Vulcan. His dark eyes stayed on Asfastr a bit longer, and he guessed Spock knew he had been insisting in meeting him.

"I… I come to serve," Asfastr stammered at the traditional respectful words.

Spock inclined his head, "Your service is honored." And there was such a calm, such a control in that voice that Asfastr felt entranced.

The Vulcan man was still coolly looking at him, his face hardly visible under the long hood, but Asfastr had forgotten all the questions he had, even his important query, and now could only stare at Spock. The others, however, weren't so quiet, and soon their own questions were raised, and seating over the plumbs that filled the gallery, under the protection of the shadows, a fluid debate ensued as they shared they views.


	16. Chapter 16

The meeting was over and the small group started to dissolve. Asfastr finally spoke up, "You know my situation with my mother." They all turned to listen. "I desperately need further help." He waited for an answer, searching everyone's faces. However, none of them offered him more than sympathy; partly, he had expected it, since his benefactor hadn't identified himself earlier, but he was nevertheless disappointed. He had still hoped he or she would have come forward then, so he would not be alone. He had even dreamed of the beautiful woman being his anonymous confidant and the two of them working together to bring Koval down. But that was not going to happen.

Asfastr's teacher offered to go along with him and share a drink. Asfastr had to refuse; he still had one last card to play. Asfastr's teacher went away, but the elderly man lingered a bit apart from him, even when his niece was already gone; Asfastr noticed and doubted. Spock started to walk away too, and Asfastr summoned his courage to approach him.

"Spock," he softly said, but it was enough to stop the Vulcan; he turned to look at him. "Would you help me, please?"

Asfastr neared Spock and he waited. The elderly man watched them for a moment, but then quietly left them alone.

Asfastr took a calming breath as he tried to organize the turmoil of thoughts and emotions in his head. Looking up at Spock, his eyes almost pleading, he said, "I know I have no right to ask you this. I just don't know who else to turn to."

Spock raised his eyebrow, but the hood hid his features and the gesture was lost to Asfastr. He went forward, "You probably don't know, sir, but my mother is former senator Cretak."

However, Spock surprised him, "I know about your predicament."

"Then, will you help me?" Asfastr hopefully asked.

"I still don't know what you want me to help you with."

The tunnel's darkness was oppressing, and Spock's tall lean figure was impressive. Asfastr couldn't get himself to calm down. He gripped his shoulder bag's strap with excessive force, while he gestured with his other hand as he tried to explain himself.

"Koval… he is working for the Federation. You are Federation. A Federation Ambassador! You may know something. You can find out something."

Spock kept his hand grasped at his back and never changed his demeanor as he replied, "I am Federation, indeed. And if I am and Koval is working for the Federation as you claim, why would I help you expose him and therefore undermine the Federation?"

Asfastr could not deny it was a logical question, one he had asked himself. He doubted his answer was. "But he is against Unification! He is always trying to bring us down!"

"He's Tal Shiar's Chairman."

"And he's an evil man."

Asfastr held out the bag for Spock to take; his hand trembled as he offered it. "Please, take a look and decide. Here is everything I know for now."

Spock reached out his own hand and took the bag, his natural curiosity overpowering prudence.

"Thank you," Asfastr whispered, smiling bleakly. He didn't waited for an answer; he quickly went away.

That way, he couldn't see another hooded figure watching them from the deep shadows that also left the place as Spock retreated.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: D'Tan is a character from the episodes Unification I and Unification II of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

A light breeze moved the open window's curtains. It carried the scents from the large lake that lingered outside. Spock appreciated the smell, which somehow reminded him of his many times on Earth; he could sense the differences that made that particular wind unique, though, and told him he was instead in the planet that lately had become his residence and the house that had become his second home. From the window, Spock could see the lake's lazy waters touching with delicacy the small private beach that dominated the building's east façade; a Romulan man was sitting at the shore, his gaze lost contemplating the landscape. However, Spock did not pay him any attention; seated at a table beside the window, his focus was on the playing recording, a three-dimensional image of Koval that virtually walked along the room as he rambled about bio weapons' development.

A soft female voice interrupted him announcing the tea was ready; it was the house's computerized system, and Spock ignored it. However, the message was also listened outside, and the Romulan man went out of his musing and without haste walked into the building. Soon he was at Spock's study, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and two cups of tea. He passed through Koval's hologram and sat down at Spock's opposite site of the table, placing the tray down.

"Vulcan's spiced tea," he said with a warm smile, "your favorite."

Spock stopped the recording to look at him, a young handsome man with short sable black hair. "It's Saavik's favorite," he corrected.

"And yours since she's far away," the man added, taking one of the cups and offering it to him. "You always think of her when you drink it, a very pleasant thought." His smile broadened.

Spock lifted one eyebrow at the comment, as he reflected; even if the man was an accomplished adult now, he still was very much like the kid he had known a decade ago, when he first visited Romulus to join the Unification's effort; he had still the same naive smile and the same warm dark eyes.

"I always think of Saavik, D'Tan, all the time. She is always with me."

D'Tan looked largely at Spock as if pondering his words; he had still to find his own soul mate. Next, pushing the thought apart, he lifted his draped tunic's sleeve to serve the tea to both of them. The tea's strong perfume filled now the comfy room.

D'Tan briefly side-glanced Koval's stilled image. He only weighted his decision for a moment, then ordered for the recording to go on. Both he and Spock turned their attention to the again walking hologram as they sipped their drink.

Koval certainly gave details that were compromising; he seemed to be running several projects at his own risk, without notifying the praetor, and some of them certainly didn't seem to serve the Empire's goals. However, none of them implied he was a Federation mole, as Asfastr has assured.

"Koval is too smart to keep a record of all these. It's too risky," Spock reflected aloud.

D'Tan shifted his gaze to look at Spock, before adding defensively, "I can assure you none of these recordings are forged. I have already checked them many times."

"I do not doubt you, D'Tan," Spock replied, "but still logic indicates that Koval would have not recorded them."

Koval's image continued explaining himself even if both men were actually now ignoring it.

"We Romulans are very passionate people, and we don't always follow logic. He may like bragging about his secret accomplishments and did these personal recordings to please his desires."

Spock lifted his eyebrows and looked quizzically at him, "Do you seriously think so?"

D'Tan's long sigh answered him, "No."

Spock steepled his fingers as he continued his reasoning. "The person who gave this to Asfastr did not wish Koval any good. I think he was framed, spied in his own home, recorded as he reflected aloud."

It was D'Tan's time to lift his eyebrow; he looked at Spock doubtfully, "The head of the Tal Shiar spied at his own home? Who could get to do that?"

Spock drank his tea before calmly replying him, "Someone very close to him."

His intense gaze was locked on D'Tan. The Romulan opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted by Spock's sudden shift of attention. He had sharply turned to look back at the hologram and his features had hardened. D'Tan failed to read what was written in the Vulcan's eyes.

"…but his work isn't going to be in vain, no," Koval was saying. "His aborted uprising was just one first try, just as Thieurrul was a first failed attempt of my now ongoing project." He paused, lifted his eyes to the sky. "My dear grandfather Norenci, you were just too short-sighted, but I plan to carry out your scheme into a much larger scope." He had a self-satisfied smile and his eyes sparkled.

D'Tan frowned. "What is he talking about now?"

All alarms had raised in Spock's head, and this time, and for a very different reason, he had thought of Saavik. It was illogical to worry, though. He forced himself to remain calm and detached. He continued listening intently to Koval's vague words as he replied to D'Tan.

"I thought you may know. Who was Koval's grandfather?"

D'Tan only mused the answer for a second, his index finger lightly scratching his temple. "Norenci, he was a centurion from a Minor House," he paused for a moment, "A nobody."

"It was his father's notorious career and his marriage to his better positioned mother what really helped Koval's successful rise."

"Exactly," D'Tan agreed. "And what about Thieurrul?" D'Tan looked inquiringly to Spock.

Spock's lifting eyebrow and silence only answered him.

"Ok, I'll research a bit. See what I can find."


	18. Chapter 18

D'Tan had gone to his own office, and Spock was alone again with the virtual Koval. For an instant, Spock doubted if his choice had been really a good one: he had sent D'Tan to learn about Hellguard. For an instant, he feared what he could find. Fear was irrational, thought, and could not dictate his actions; D'Tan had many sources in the Empire and could learn about Koval's relation with Hellguard, and he was a man he trusted. Of course, he thought of Saavik and still wanted to be there, with D'Tan, learning everything at the moment, hiding him something if necessary. Inwardly, he reached out for Saavik; their strong link told him what he already knew: she was ok, and that reassured him.

Until suddenly hearing about Thieurrull, Spock had only listened to Koval to satisfy his curiosity; he had not really contemplated the possibility of seriously investigating him; he had not had good reasons to do so. Now, however, Koval had become a personal matter. Koval knew about Hellguard and planned to retake the project. Spock knew very well the impact that would have on Saavik. Actually, it weighed heavily on him too, as it would do on any Vulcan, as it would do on any decent person, he reflected.

And Koval worked for the Federation… But that could not be true. The Federation would never support anyone capable of such an atrocity. Or maybe they just did not know, the same way the Romulan Empire seemed unaware of many of his plans or actions. For the Federation would never condone any harm done willingly to innocent people, or the development and use of weapons of massive destruction.

Just then a very dark fact crossed Spock's head, and his expression turned harder as he scrutinized Koval's image. Actually, the Federation had condone the use of such weapons; actually, they had consciously infected an entire population with a deadly virus of their own creation. That was the way they had put an end to the Dominion war, and even if that truth was unknown to the majority, Spock had learnt. The Federation had blamed that rogue organization, Section 31, but still some in Starfleet Command and in the Council had been aware. Saavik and him had many times talked about that issue; both of them had been conflicted.

And now they had another reason to be conflicted. Koval could be really planning to do something as wrong as a second Hellguard, and he could actually be one of their own. No, Spock corrected himself, he could be Federation but he would never be one of their own.

Spock took a moment to collect himself and focused again in his work ahead. When he had first opened the bag and taken out all the different recordings and documents, he had expected a chaotic research, as many non-Vulcans did. However, the disorder was only apparent and Asfastr had actually been meticulous. He had cross-referenced all the collected data, even if they came from different sources and had diverse formats. Most of the time, when Koval was speaking, the links to the related information appeared by his side and could be called upon. Spock had only ordered one of the personal recordings to play; however, he now paused the hologram again and introduced all the available documents for the main computer to run too. He remembered all the references that had already appeared. Unfortunately, he also remembered there had been none for Thieurrull; apparently, Asfastr had been unable to learn anything about that.

So he went for the one that secondly interested him more: Vulcan.

There were several references to his homeworld; however, none of them was unexpected or alarming, none of them was even unknown to the Romulan government. Most of them were relating to his disease. Koval did not hide anymore the fact that he suffered Tuvan syndrome; and if he hardly showed the effects of the illness' first stages was mainly due to his extensive knowledge of the advances done in Vulcan to cure it. Of course, neither Koval nor the Romulan authorities would admit that. Instead, Koval had financed a small medical unit to exclusively treat him using what his spies had learnt from Vulcan, and now the doctors publicity claimed the new treatments as their own.

And that seemed to be the interest Koval had on Vulcan; to Spock's inner relief, there was no mention at all of kidnapping citizens. Nothing appeared when he ordered the computer to search for the word "pon farr" through the given data.

Nevertheless, the list of Koval's dirty business was large, and the information at Spock's disposal was impressive. Soon, Spock realized that what Asfastr had compiled in a few months should actually take years in obtaining and arranging as it was. He already knew Asfarst had been helped by different sources. Obviously Koval had many enemies; many would want his downfall. However, as well as he knew Asfastr's simple and harmless intentions, he knew nothing of the others' motives. Spock noted to himself that he would investigate that, but first he would figure out Koval, for he had his own good reasons too.

Spock found one last minor reference to Vulcan, and what followed lead him to a disquieting finding. Koval's focus on bio weapons crossed the line of professional interest to become personal recreation. He had acquired detailed information on the plague developed by the Dominion known as the Blight. To Spock's discomfort, all the data came directly from the Federation; it was most probably the result of Koval's once again successful espionage on them. But Koval had not limited himself to collect intelligence; he had again put his own group of scientists to work on the disease, to replicate and upgrade it so it could work in other known key races. Officially, the project had failed. Koval's personal files told a very different story, thought. The present documents suggested the existence of variants of the blight to affect several species, and they all were under Koval's exclusive control. Vulcans were on the list. Now, all the people who had worked on their development were conveniently dead. And Koval was apparently hiding this critical weapon to his own government.

Later, Spock discovered that Koval had another obsession: biological engineering. Again, he had obtained information of the other powers in the known quadrants as any good chief of intelligence would, but again he seemed to be withholding information to his superiors and keeping some of his findings for himself alone.

He even had his own lucrative business involving the trafficking with genetically modified people in the Orion slave market. And Koval had no qualms selling out his own people, or experimenting with them. Many Tal Shiar's detainees had had a terrible unexpected end. None in the Senate cared, or dared, to investigate what happened to those arrested by the Tal Shiar, and some of them went just missing; for the Romulan people, they were presumably dead. However, for the last twenty years, Koval had found another use for them. He had practiced DNA resequencing on them trying to get stronger, more resilient and especially more submissive people. He had been quite successful. Asfastr had managed to get several videos intended for his customers, showing his slaves' reliability; Spock refused to watch them.

"Spock, aren't you going to meditate tonight?" D'Tan's voice interrupted his concentration.

Spock glanced up to see the man at the threshold looking at him with heavy eyes.

"It's already quite late," he continued.

Spock was very aware of what time it was. "I will continue reviewing all the data."

"Aren't you going to rest?"

"I'm not tired."

Spock's answer did not surprise D'Tan; he saw the steely determination in Spock's eyes. "You need to know the truth, I understand that." He paused as he leaned against the door frame. "But… if he really works for the Federation, what are you going to do?"

"I will do what logic dictates."

That seemed to explain everything for Spock, but D'Tan reviewed what he knew about Surak's teachings and was very unsure about what that would mean; anyway, he decided not to press further.

"I'll go meditate, and then to sleep; I'll continue researching tomorrow."

"What have you discovered until now?" Spock inquired.

D'Tan passed his hand through his already disheveled hair, "Not much, except that someone was very interested in making Thieurrull and all it conveyed disappear." He paused for an instant. "Did you know that the colony was actually blew up, by the Federation?"

Somewhat, Spock's immediate and calm answer didn't surprise him, "Yes."

Then D'Tan straightened, opened his mouth to say something else, but thought about it again and remained silent. Instead, after an instant, he repeated, "I'm going to meditate."

He was already turning when Spock's voice interrupted him, "Before meditating, you may want to see this."

He ordered the computer to extract some of the files, and stood up from his desk to meet him and bring them to him. D'Tan took them and gave the files a quick glance; a few numbers codified their contents. He pressed them harder against the palm of his hand, and turned away.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Luther Sloan is a character from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

The genetic experiments done by Humans in the late 20th century and its disastrous consequences, as well as the subsequent attempts and equally terrible results done by the Klingons were common knowledge for the Tal Shiar. However, again, Koval seemed to know more about the details of the Federation's activities than he was expected to. He had extensive reports of the later, and illegal, genetic engineering done at the other side of the Neutral Zone; most of it did not have any intelligence value. The interest was obviously personal.

Koval even closely monitored the lives of all those genetically modified people he was aware of. He had an extensive list of Humans. One of them attracted immediately Spock's attention, for he had already been mentioned by Koval before, and he had still other links to learn about.

Julian Bashir. A Starfleet medical officer. He had been the one who had made the discovery and following research on the Dominion's terrible biological weapon; most of the Federation's documents related to the Blight were signed by him.

And then there was the other reference he previously had on him. Bashir, willingly or not, had been a key instrument on the fall of Asfarst's mother, Cretak, and the consequent rise to further power of Koval. Fascinating.

Spock knew what Cretak thought of Bashir's implication. It was only logical, considering the amount of information Koval had on him, that he would obtain now his own version of the story. And he was not disappointed.

After listening first to Koval's profiling of Bashir, it was not a surprise to find out that Koval had manipulated the doctor since the beginning, and that he had in no moment being aware of being following Koval's agenda. Both Bashir and Cretak had fallen blindly into Koval's well planned trap.

But Koval's account of the incident also led Spock to the dark final question that needed to be answered: Was Koval a Federation agent or not? Because finally, after many hours of reviewing files, he had the first direct mention of the dangerous Section 31 and one of their agents, Sloan.

In the privacy of his home, Koval admitted working along the rogue operative, and added another name to the list of implicated people: Admiral William Ross. The three of them had schemed together to destroy Cretak's career and secure his seat in the Continuing Committee. Koval admitted his duplicity and affirmed his works for Section 31 and the Federation. However, he considered being also manipulating the clandestine organization and its supporters; he only served the Federation as long as it served him. He was a double agent, and as all double agents, his loyalties were unclear. Was Koval really a Federation mole in the Tal Shiar or a Romulan mole in Section 31? Considering his origin, Spock was more inclined to think of the later.

Koval was a deceitful man; he had hidden vital information to the Praetor and the Senate; he had his own illegal businesses. But the probabilities said he just played with the Federation, he did not at all work for them. And even if Koval plotted against Cretak, if he did not plot against the Romulan people, Cretak could not be saved by arresting him, which was all Asfarst wanted.

However, probabilities could be wrong, for Spock was about to do an astounding discovery that went against all probabilities.

Luther Sloan. There were several links attached to that name too. Many were references to Section 31's operations. Some had Koval as part of them. There were some incriminating documents: one included a recording showing Koval trading Romulan intelligence with the agent and being paid for. It had been recorded only two months ago.

After several links, however, the computer led Spock to a file he had already reviewed before. The moment it appeared before him, he rebuked himself for having been lenient. It was the list of the persons subjected to genetic resequencing at Adigeon Prime's facility. He had not read the names before; once he had spotted the name of Julian Bashir, he had stopped reading the list and went directly to learn about the doctor. But there it was, the other familiar name, Luther Sloan; he was also one of the genetically enhanced children. That was more than fascinating.

Another reference to Sloan; another again related to Bashir; another about a bio weapon, and another one he was aware of. Every piece of data seemed produced to defy logic, but Spock knew logic would finally prevail. Intrigued, he memorized all the information in his head and tried to find out the way everything made sense.

A previous video had Koval with Sloan only a few months ago; this new source said Sloan had killed himself longer than a year ago protecting the nature of the virus that had infected all the Founders' population; one created by Section 31 and uncovered by Bashir, who had been able to find a cure even after his suicide. Koval lamented Bashir's success; he wanted the shape shifters eliminated. He had been aware of the disease's existence all the time, and had considered it a reliable weapon.

Koval despised Bashir and appreciated him at the same time; he had a liking for the Human doctor, probably developed by all the time spent learning about his life. His link with Sloan, however, grew deeper, and it was more difficult to research. Several contents about him that Spock read next were also contradictory. For example, Sloan had died many times, but apparently was still alive; and Koval seemed to trust him more than any other. Somehow, Sloan's businesses were also Koval's.

It was also through Sloan that Spock reached to Koval's latest activities. Again, disquieting ones. Using trustworthy Tal Shiar operatives, he had contacted some former Obsidian Order agents who were now good positioned in the recently formed and still quite chaotic Cardassian government. After the Dominion forces retreated back to the Gamma Quadrant and an uneasy peace was established, both warring parts reached an agreement to free all prisoners of war. Many Jem'Hadar fell into Cardassian hands once the later successfully rebelled, but they were dangerous uncontrolled prisoners which Cardassians were grateful to release. Not all of them were returned to the Dominion, though, for Koval's first action during the days following Cardassia's recovered independence was to convince these spies to secure a number of Jem'Hadar prisoners for him. As he had done many times before, he created a parallel structure with both the Cardassian and the Romulan operatives, and recruited several local scientists too. His focus was once again bio engineering. Jem'Hadar were a master piece and he planned to dissect them and adapt them to his own purposes.

Many Jem'Hadar figured as part of his unofficial prisons. However, Spock realized that none in the Dominion had ever claimed them. They were as unimportant to the Founders as they were to Koval and his people; they were just expendable tools specifically designed to be used and discarded away; nobody missed them; nobody was really awaiting them home.

Again Spock's thoughts reached towards Saavik, who had known no home and had been utterly alone. Or not so alone. Because she had had T'Pren. And someone had come to her rescue, the Vulcan Symmetry crew, and the abandoned children, once subjects to cruel experimentation, have found a home.

Spock disliked the parallelisms his mind formed, but they were still there, a flagrant truth that could not be denied. The Jem'Hadar were not alone, neither were the other many victims of Koval's terrible plans. Spock was still unsure of what the Romulan's big scheme was, but he was determined to put an end to his atrocities now.

Spock gave the computer a new order. It was time to contact Saavik.


	20. Chapter 20

It was still dark when D'Tan came into Spock's office next morning. The first rays of the Romulan sun started then to spread their light over the calm lake that could be seen from the window. Spock stood there, his hand clasped on his back, still as he reflected; his thoughts were as dark as the sky outside, but his eyes only showed his concentration. D'Tan, however, looked worse than he had the previous night. He was wearing fresh clothes and had delicately trimmed his hair, but his face was pale and his eyes were heavy. Spock glanced at D'Tan when he entered, but none of them said a word. D'Tan slowly came towards his table, crossing through the different holographic projections that were displayed in the room. He dragged a chair next to him and sat, and after that, rested his head on his hand as he admitted, "I couldn't meditate last night."

Spock arched his eyebrow but remained attentively silent.

D'Tan massaged his temple, "I couldn't sleep either." He sighed. "The files you gave to me were really disturbing." He gritted his teeth, and pressed his hands into fists. "Did you watch it? The video?" D'Tan didn't wait for Spock's negative before continuing. "I knew that man, Gnell, from one of our groups, do you remember him?" He looked up at Spock, his eyes wet; his voice creaked. "I knew him, and others on the list, good people, good Romulans, and that bastard—" D'Tan punched the table, then immediately regretted his action, and covered the offending fit with his other hand. He avoided Spock's eyes, ashamed; he heard his voice in his head; "control", it said with his always leveled tone.

Spock's real voice overlapped the imagined one, "Your lapse of control is understandable," it said with a gentleness D'Tan hadn't expected.

D'Tan met his glance again, surprised but hopeful. "Is it?" he questioned; "I wish I could have your control; you always say we Romulans can attain that level of control too, but many times I can't even meditate! And I try hard." He only thought about it for a moment, and then he asked, "Would you help me meditate again today?"

Spock nodded, "I will," he hadn't forgotten the former point, though, so he continued," Romulans can attain the same level of control as Vulcans if they apply to it. You can do it, D'Tan, but for that, you will have to face first the source of your pain, the reason beneath your uncontrolled emotions." Spock said the words with such calm and conviction that it was difficult not to agree. "You always avoid them, D'Tan, when we meditate together. You will never progress until you solve that."

D'Tan gave Spock a long look; he wanted to scream at him, "It's very easy for you! You're Vulcan!" but he knew that was not fair. D'Tan had known Spock for many years, and even in spite of Spock's reserved nature, he had learnt much about the Federation ambassador; Spock had also struggled with his own inner conflicts, everybody did. So instead of yelling at him, D'Tan reflected about this, and found a haven of calmness even in his troubled state; then, he mirrored one of Spock's mannerisms and steeped his fingers before him. D'Tan had learnt a long time ago, when he was just a child and his parents taught him with secrecy the scarce knowledge they had of their Vulcan ancestors, that with calmness came enlightenment. And this way, a new thought came to his mind, and he said it aloud, "That's why you gave me those files last night," his voice was even, but his eyes sparkled and a sly smile formed in his lips.

Spock did not deny the accusation, "It was necessary."

D'Tan pointed a finger at Spock, abandoning the mimicking of his mentor, "I…"

"You think you are also guilty of what happened to those people," Spock completed for him.

D'Tan's look turned grim, he was offended. "I didn't tell you that. I did not share with you."

The Romulan read the smile at Spock's eyes and his frown deepened, this time in confusion. Spock also answered him, "I would never read your mind without your permission, D'Tan." A brief pause, as his friend relaxed. "It was a mere deduction."

"And am I not guilty?" D'Tan replied as he threw off his hands, and then nervously caressed his hair. "Koval is a criminal; he had been for decades. Don't you think that if the Senate had known of all his atrocities before they would have prosecuted him? They would." His hand slapped the table to reinforce his passionate argument. "And what did I do to expose him? Nothing! I sat idly while he demeaned our people!"

Spock crossed the room to stay nearer D'Tan; he locked his steady eyes on him and waited for the younger man to calm down. "D'Tan, think logically, could you seriously have done something to stop Koval?"

The Romulan gritted his teeth, "I could, Spock, that's the point."

"But you did not, why?"

D'Tan frowned, as he thought hard about it, then shook his head. "Do I really have to answer this?"

"Do you want to find inner calm?" Spock inquired instead.

"I just want to find enough calm to go to work today," D'Tan hardly smiled.

Spock ignored the man's attempt at humor, which was a way of taking a tangent from the point of discussion, and went back to the issue, "That is not the way of Surak."

D'Tan stood up from his chair and turned to go; he looked back at Spock. "I promise to focus on that later, really, but I have to go to work now, and I can't go in this state of mind. Please, Spock, help me to order my emotions now, and we will deal with the deeper issues later." A plea was also written in his eyes.

"Do you realize that you always tell me that same words?" Spock answered him, but as D'Tan went for the door, he followed him. "It is important that you face your troubles, D'Tan," he insisted, but again, he let the man go.


	21. Chapter 21

"Real people have names."

All the Jem'Hadar fell silent and turned to look with some surprise to the alien woman seated between them. She gazed at them with open contempt, and some of them answered with anger, but none of them attempted to attack her.

"Names, not numbers like you. First. Second. Third…" She glanced at each of them. "They are ranks, positions, not names. Come on! Even pets have names! You are less than them."

"Pets?" Second asked doubtfully, but he did not clarify to the Romulan woman that they did have names.

Ajeya sighed loudly. She banged her fist on her foreleg in an unconscious gesture of nervousness. The Dominion warriors were getting her mad. "You don't even know what pets are! Do you realize how little you know?"

Again, none of them contracticted her. Instead, Fourth replied in a neutral tone, "We can learn. You can teach us. We are quick learners."

"Oh, yeah," she clucked dryly.

First focused his words and gaze on her. "We have a right to learn. We have a right to decide what we want to do with our lives."

Ajeya straightened her newly replicated dress that followed closely the Romulan style. "You don't," she firmly answered back. "Who taught you that crap? That stupid Cardassian scientist who was your friend?" Her scorn irritated the Jem'Hadar, but they still tolerated her. "You usually speak of him. What was his name?" She paused to think.

Third's tone was menacing, "Doctor Relnak isn't stupid."

Fourth looked puzzled at her. "You agreed with him. You tried to help us."

Ajeya's sardonic laughter filled the cramped room. "How many times do I have to repeat myself? I tell you again: I didn't try to help you. I just wanted to get your jailers down. You… you…," she pointed at them as she stammered. "I don't give a damn about you!"

"I still don't understand why we keep her alive!" Second seethed and all his muscles tensed as he flung towards the Romulan woman.

In her still debilitated state, Ajeya's reaction came late. Actually, she realized, even at her peak physical condiction, she would have never been a match for the lighting reflexes and the strength of the Jem'Hadar. However, First's commanding voice stilled the Dominion warrior when he was about to strike. "I do! And that's enough."

Second grunted but submitted to his superior and sat down again. Ajeya didn't relax; she knew she was playing a dangerous game speaking her mind. However, she had always loved to risk.

"So you agree with the Founders," First spoke with a surprising calm; he usually did.

Again, Ajeja couldn't help smiling. "The Founders are always right. Isn't that what you say?"

"Maybe they are not," First sobered.

A voice from the ship's speakers interrupted their conversation, "Attention! We are now approaching the wormhole." The Dominion soldier intoned it with the same lack of emotion a computer would.

Ajeya could not help but sweep her gaze around the gathered Jem'Hadar. She had always thought they were not much different from machines; however, she grimaced when she realized that her close time with them had made her discover their different personalities. Again, machines could be programmed to have personalities too.

The warriors stood up and left the lounge to go to the bridge. First was also on his feet, but he did not move. He lingered beside Ajeya and waited until the others were gone to address her.

"Maybe you did not want to help us, but we helped you. Now it's time for you to help us."

Ajeya didn't speak this time; she waited to hear First's proposal. He went on, "This is a Romulan vessel. You are Romulan."

Ajeya cringed when she heard the words. Sometimes she tried not to acknowledge that fact. She was surrounded by aliens, but still sometimes the RSE assault ship she was in made her feel secure and relaxed, until she realized she was letting some foreigners run one of the Empire's warships, then she felt utterly outraged. She tried to control that feeling right now. All her muscles aching in tension, she forced herself to quietly listen to the Jem'Hadar commanding officer.

"You will speak with the Federation station to travel through the wormhole. We cannot do it. They will suspect."

Her small grim smile was her first answer. She crossed her arms, "Are you threatening me if I don't?"

First frowned. "You don't want to help, why?"

Ajeya lifted her eyebrow in surprise; she wondered if the soldier was really that naïve. Does he- does it really need an explanation?

"Why would I help you carry further away one of our ships?" Her fury sipped through her words; she didn't let him answer. "Why would I give you what you want? So you can readily dispose of me, as your second has clearly stated you want?"

First's frown grew deeper; his answer, though, was firm but calm, "I don't want to dispose of you." When Ajeya replied with a dry chuckle, he went on, "We are not friends, but we are not enemies either. And we have a common enemy, you said. My enemy's enemy is my ally."

Ajeya immediately dismissed the thought; she didn't want to pretend, "We are not allies."

The Dominion warrior didn't move or change his expression, but his face's muscles tensed as a sign of discomfort. He has problems understanding the complex and twisted mind of the Romulan admiral. But First still really didn't want her to become his enemy; he really had plans for her.

"If you don't want to help, don't help. But the ones who hunt us are also hunting you. Do you want to fall again in their hands?" He tried hard to reason with her.

However, Ajeya had a different point of view, "I'm still a prisoner, one way or the other."

"You are not," First had actually assured her that many times. "You are a guest."

The apparent convincement in his voice was not enough for the veteran Romulan officer, facts told her a quite different truth. She tested him further, "If so, let me go now; you can even keep the ship."

She had asked for that before, the answer had always been negative and she knew it. The Jem'Hadar didn't reply her at once this time; he stopped to think and mulled it over. After a long silence, he surprised her soberly saying, "Agreed."

Ajeya was thrown off. "Agreed?" she could not help echoing.

"We can beam you down in an isolated area of Bajor. Sooner or later, you will contact someone. You will be safe. You are a survivor, I can see that."

"You are a smart Jem'Hadar, aren't you?" She didn't mean it as a compliment, but she realized with surprise that she actually appreciated the soldier's demonstrated insight.

First ignored the comment; he didn't know what she really meant. "You want to be off this ship, you are off. I will not risk further."

Ajeya's feral smile answered him, "Fine."

First came closer to her and went down to carefully lift her. Ajeya struggled to get up on her own, but her knees faltered and she had to grasp the Dominion warrior to retain her balance. First gently kept her straight and help her walk. She moved slowly and painfully, actually dragged by the strong Jem'Hadar. Together, they left the lounge.

"Couldn't you be doctors instead of soldiers?" she muttered. Again, the other chose to ignore her.

They walked down the corridor, following the right direction towards the transporter room; but it could also take them to many different places. Ajeya thought again of what was going on. She still doubted the Dominion soldier would let her free, but even if his word was true, she realized she was in no condition to be on her own. She didn't have much of a choice. And she wanted the Jem'Hadar to be alive, and if possible, under her control; they were her proof. It was her time to gamble.

"If I help you", she finally proposed with reluctance, "will you help me?"

First looked largely down at her, measuring her, "An alliance then?"

"A temporary one," Ajeya did not hide her intentions.


	22. Chapter 22

Ajeya took a deep breath to calm herself, but inwardly the tension continued to build up. All the Jem'Hadar bored their eyes on her, and even when she tried to focus on the screen in front of her, her mind continued picturing her the assembled Dominion warriors and their weapons. She was the only one unarmed.

She had changed her clothes and was now dressed with the familiar Romulan uniform. She was seated in the commander's chair, and caressed the chair's arm as she usually did when she sat there. However, all those times she had been in charge of her ships, now the present troops served another. Guarding the distance so he could not be seen by their interlocutors, the real commander watched her.

Ajeya wondered if she was losing her mind, but still she thought she could agree to that charade and prevail, as she had always done. She realized the Jem'Hadar were using her; she just expected to have a chance to use them back.

The Bajoran woman at the station was intrigued, but she still managed a smile and shared the greeting as if it were routine. Ajeya had been in charge of the Romulan fleet in the Gamma Quadrant until she was captured by her personal enemies; she knew well she always informed Starfleet and Deep Space Nine with anticipation about her vessels crossing the wormhole. The colonel realized as well as her that her sudden appearance was irregular, even if it was perfectly legal.

"I didn't expect you, Admiral; actually, I thought you were already in the Gamma Quadrant," Kira Neris casually commented.

Ajeya had been expecting that; inwardly, she smiled with satisfaction, but she did not change her composed expression. First hadn't made a gesture, but she could felt Second and Third glare on her, and heard the almost soundless move of them reaching for their weapons. Surely, the Jem'Hadar hadn't liked the revelation, but she hadn't risked to forewarn them and possibly ruin her only chance. Now they forcibly had to let her play her game; if they wanted to kill her, anyway it wasn't going to be right now.

And besides, she was not going to precisely cry for help. Unknowingly to the Dominion soldiers, she was really in an unauthorized mission of her own; she could not let neither the Federation nor her own Empire know about her whereabouts, at least not yet.

She could feign normality as well as the former freedom fighter. "You have heard about my flag ship's presence in the area," she explained with disinterest, "however I'm joining the fleet now."

Kira could not object her. She knew almost nothing of the Romulans' affairs in the Gamma Quadrant, and she had only seen her daughter Raghnil when they have docked in Deep Space Nine before; Ajeya had remained in her vessel.

The colonel frowned slightly, surely weighting her argument, and still distrusting the unexpected appearance of the Romulan assault ship and the flag officer in command. Finally, she shrugged it off, and cleared them.

The moment the communication was cut, First hastly ordered his helmsman to enter the wormhole. Ajeya turned and fixed her cool blue eyes on Second, without sparing a look at the disruptor pointing at her. "I didn't betray you," she pronounced her words slowly and forcefully.

Second's eyes were still on fire; he strained to kill her and end up her continued disregard for them. He waited for the proper order, though, the one Ajeya feared could come. She already did not serve them any purpose she could think of. She knew well if she were First, she would not keep her word. But she played the little cards she had, and if she had judged the Jem'Hadar commanding officer well, he would honor his agreement.

"But you did hide information from us." First was speaking from beside her; his choice of words was not a surprise. Ajeya moved her head slightly to face his, not showing concern. "The station's commander knew you and you did not tell me."

Again that scornful smile. "I have told you many time how ignorant you are."

"But I learnt something new today," First calmness was starting to upset her. "Your name: Ajeya," he stressed the word. "Names are important." He was utterly serious, but Ajeya thought First was the one mocking her now.

First hadn't finished, "The Bajoran colonel now can inform others of your presence in this ship."

Ajeya looked pointedly at First, "You already knew that could happen. Besides, she will not inform our chasers, and this ship is now free to go to wherever you plan to."

First decided, "Until we reach Dominion territory, you will remain with us."

Second seethed, hardly controlling his eagerness to kill the Romulan admiral; Third nodded in approval, but kept his weapon aimed at her. Ajeya also hissed her reply, "That was not our deal."

"It is now," First informed her. "Lower your weapons," he ordered the others.

Ajeya spat a vile curse, and punched the chair in frustration.

"Our alliance stands," First assured her. Ajeya didn't bother to answer his empty promises. She soured in the commander's chair, scowling deeply, and imagined the many ways she could torment the Jem'Hadar warrior; it hardly gave her any pleasure. But she was a practical woman, and she contented in the fact that she was not dead yet and the voyage to Dominion territory was long, so her sharp mind continued plotting, ready to grasp any chance to get her out of her ordeal alive and victorious.


	23. Chapter 23

Kira Nerys continued staring at the blackened screen as she reflected on what had just happened and could be going on. The Romulan ship had just decloaked before them, but they could trace their track coming from Cardassian territory; their business was their own, but still some ingrained prejudice that new experiences could hardly erase told her to distrust anything coming from that area of space, and the Federation seemed to suffer from a similar case of fear regarding the Romulans. And the sudden appearance of Admiral Ajeya in the small assault ship was at the very least odd. She appreciated her independence and preferred to manage everything on her own, but she realized that in this instance, it was better if she just informed Starfleet of what have just happened, even if it was probably something unimportant they would disregard.

The colonel swept her gaze over the assembled crew. When her eyes passed by the sliding door that lead to the commander's office, inwardly the thought of consulting Captain Sisko came to her mind; it always did. She had lost too many people along the way since her early childhood, and even if the pained memory of all them was still very alive in her heart, the loss of the charismatic presence of Sisko was being harder to accept. It was harder to accept that now at Deep Space Nine, his office was hers, and at Bajor, there was no Emissary of the Prophets anymore.

And then she thought of Odo. Too many times she had crossed the promenade, or come into Quark's and let her imagination think, for a single second, the he would still be there; she had lingered around the security office and had irrationally hoped she could still go in and have a raktajino with him, as they always did, even if she was the only one drinking.

Kira wondered if her sudden sadness was being reflected in her eyes, and to counteract it, she smiled warmly at her people at Ops; practically none of them have been with her during the Dominion war. The old comrades were all dead or gone; it has always been that way.

She was letting her mind drift away by her heartened thoughts when another incoming ship took her away from her reverie. Another sudden decloaking, another Romulan assault ship, another one she was not expecting. She commanded a channel open at the double, and the alien vessel answered at once.

The first thing she noticed was the unmistakable gray uniform of the Tal Shiar, and she frowned immediately even if the Romulan man was smiling at her. They were crossing the wormhole and their business were their own; she had not really expected them to volunteer information, but she was curious and asked him nevertheless, "Are you traveling with Admiral Ajeya?"

Was it a gleam, what for a single moment appeared in his eyes? Anyway, no matter how hard she tried, she could not read his expression. He coolly added, "Yes, we do, and we are falling behind." And once assured he was cleared, he cut them off and, cloaking his ship once more, the Romulans disappeared through the wormhole. Again.

The Bajoran colonel was puzzled. And this time, she did not doubt anymore. She could not understand what was going on, but it was extremely odd, and she was warning Starfleet now.


	24. Chapter 24

The screen went blank, but the Tal Shiar officer continued looking at it.

"So Ajeya did cross towards the Gamma quadrant with them," he commented, his tone neutral.

"The Bajoran was really helpful to us," a feminine voice answered him.

He turned slightly to face her. "And there you thought she'd cause us trouble," he said, as he arched his eyebrow to stress his point.

The woman just flashed a smile as an answer. She was not Romulan, but Cardassian, and dressed in a revealing dress, she leaned casually on one of the consoles. None of the Romulans present found her the least attractive, though. She also had her mind set in very different issues.

"Let's hope the escapees don't cause you any trouble either," she said in a slur that was in part a menace.

The Tal Shiar operative did as if he didn't resent her words, so did the others who also remained silent at their posts.

The Cardassian operative played idly with her sharp nails. "I'm getting tired of this chase," she declared with some disdain. "Let's finish them now."

The free alien space of the broad Gamma Quadrant opened before them. At the science station, one of the Romulan spies monitored a tilting trail that marked the stolen ship's track.

"A pleasure," the Tal Shiar officer answered her, and he let a matching smile play in his lips. His hand rose to give the order. Impassively, the young woman at the weapon station waited for it, her cool eyes fixed at him.

"Not yet," a cold voice interrupted them.

There were no shadows in the clear illuminated bridge, but still the sleek Human man clad in black seemed to have found a spot to make himself invisible. Taking a step forward, he made his presence be noticeable again; not that any of them have really forgotten he was there.

Hardly veiled resentful stares welcomed him into the conversation. He disregarded them.

"We will let them get closer to the Dominion border and strike them there."

The Cardassian woman continued leaned back, and her side glance was accompanied by an indifferent shrug. "I really don't care, but I got the impression your boss wanted this issue finished by now."

"He wants it finished well," the Human forcibly said, and the many winkles that crossed his pale face were reinforced. "We will do it later, when we are far from unwanted eyes. I don't want anyone registering the explosion."

"We could easily cover it up," the Romulan haughtily said.

The look directed in his direction this time was openly hostile. "There would be nothing to cover up if you wouldn't have messed it up in the fist place."

Both the Romulans in the room and the Cardassian spy registered the rebuke, and stiffening, returned the glare. Tension built up, but silence reigned over them, and as the mysterious Human commanded, the assault ship continued its stalking, for he represented their boss onboard, and nobody questioned the boss.


End file.
